


Love of my life don't leave me.

by Rogue1987



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Banter, Bickering, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Friendship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Fights, Heavy Angst, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protectiveness, Sexuality Crisis, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-16 00:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17538998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue1987/pseuds/Rogue1987
Summary: Freddie and Roger have a serious falling out over 'I'm in love with my car,' and haven't spoken to each other in over a week.Brian and John decide to do something drastic about it and take measures into their own hands.





	1. Love of my life, you've hurt me.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to write this for a while now but I didn't have a plot or an idea as to what I wanted to make my first Froger fic about.  
> I love these two a lot and writing soulmates is always hard for me because I had a platonic soulmate myself once ( that I lost so I can relate to how Roger felt when Freddie passed ) and I feel that it's a bit private to try to write about other people's soul bond. But I gave it my best shot. There will be one or two chapters after this, maybe more, depending on how much inspiration I have. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it, I based this on the intel I read that Freddie and Roger did have a bit of a falling out about 'I'm in love with my car' so it's sort of based on true events I guess. Although I doubt they had that fight while they were on the Ridge farm. But I like it better like that. 
> 
> *Rusper was the name of the town they often went to, close by the farm.*
> 
> Side note: Jim Hutton, Freddie's partner claimed that Roger and Freddie were clearly soulmates. Which is the foundation on which I built this story.

_Ridge farm. June 1975._

 

 

 

 

Freddie awoke that morning to another joyful headache. As he was twisting and flopping around like a fish on dry land in his shitty bed, it took him a while to recall where he was. The painful absence of Tom, Jerry and Romeo napping at the edge of his bed told him that wherever he was he wasn't at home.    
Right, they were still on this bloody farm, thus explaining why there were old mattress springs delving painfully into his back and why his eyes nearly revolted at the sight of the plain decor of his room. God, it was the epitome of  _dull_ , even the wallpaper seemed to be snoring.  
Freddie could work wonders with this entire sodding house if they let him. Brian loved it obviously, being the bonafide old fashioned fart of the group. His parent's house would probably look a lot like this, Freddie mused. Deaky seemed to be fine with every room that entailed a bed and never fussed about it, despite sleeping in the smallest, most uncomfortable room of the house.

And Roger, well, that was another story entirely. Roger was in a rather foul mood. Had been for a while now. And so was Freddie. They had barely said two words to one another ever since their big fight, a little more than a week ago.  
The heavy tension and constant squabbling drove everyone in the house rightly mad, particularly Deaky, who loathed arguments and was visibly upset with seeing two of his friends fight.  
The worst thing about it was that it felt like something sacred had been broken between him and Roger and Freddie feared that it could never be fixed again.

They had bickered before, surely, but they had never actually hurt each other like this. Been viciously  _cruel_ to one another.  
Brian had tried to salvage it but had given up a few days ago when he realized that neither of them would be willing to compromise.

Paul foolishly tried to ''help him'' through it by assuring him that he didn't _need_ Roger, that Freddie could still look for another drummer if this drama continued but Freddie refused to hear it and told him to fuck off when he suggested that. Ignoring the desire to punch Paul in the face for even suggesting something so stupid. Roger was by far the best bloody drummer he had ever seen and he was a co-founder of Queen. Freddie would never kick him out of his own band, the audacity of proposing to exclude Roger resulted in him snapping and barking at Paul for a few days.

Roger was a massive part of him, one that he was not willing to ever give up on. Even when they were making each other completely and utterly miserable. Roger was his other half, the person who meant the most to him, who understood him with a single glance.  
Who knew _nearly_ all of his darkest fears and had helped him face his demons more than once. Freddie could not imagine his life without Roger in it, didn't want to think of who he would become without him.  
Ignoring each other for over a week had been beyond painful to Freddie and he knew that it would feel similar to Roger. They said whatever was necessary to each other when they were recording their album but nothing more.

At night Roger snuck into Rusper to pick up a girl and Freddie would lock himself in his room, working on his latest song, Bohemian Rhapsody.  
Brian checked in with him regularly bringing him tea in the morning and a Vodka tonic at night and Deaky came over to chat about nothing in particular.  
Their presence helped a bit and it was nice that they cared but Freddie needed Roger much more than he would ever need either of them. Roger was in his bloodstream, offered him his daily dosage of balance and held the key to his heart, as cheesy as that sounded.

Due to their fight over that _ludicrous_  car song Freddie had been drinking far more than usual, thus resulting in him waking up to a Roger-like hangover on a daily basis. Not that he cared, he had bigger problems right now. Freddie would take the aspirin that Brian had surely left by his bed, being the notorious mother hen that he was, and carry on as if nothing affected him.  
He flicked his small lamp on and gaped at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly ten in the morning. That was odd. Brian always woke all of them around eight so they could get to work, but today he had apparently let him sleep in.

''Paul!'' Freddie called out, waiting for his assistant to open his door. He clearly could have waited forever for there was no sign of him today. Paul slept in the room adjacent to his and always came whenever Freddie needed him. Where was that Irish prick?   
''Paul! Will you get in here!'' Freddie shouted impatiently. He lit a fag as he sat up in his bed and exhaled aggravated when there was still no sight of the man. What the hell was taking that blithering idiot so long?

The perpetual silence bothered Freddie and he decided to rise from the bed, get dressed and look where his sneaky friends were hiding. He took a quick shower and went downstairs hoping to find Brian's scrambled eggs waiting for him on a plate. But alas, there was no one in the kitchen. Where the fuck was everyone hiding today? It didn't make any sense.

''Bri? Deaky? Hello is anyone here?!''  
There were footsteps thundering down the stairway, erratic ones, footsteps Freddie would recognize everywhere. ''Keep it down, will you? I'm trying to fucking sleep here!''

''Where the hell is everyone?'' Freddie snapped at Roger, who looked royally pissed off as was his daily look these days. He wore a plain white bathrobe and was barefooted. ''How the fuck should I know? I'm not their sodding mother!''  
Freddie literally had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from lashing out to Roger. This was the most they had talked in a while. But he truly didn't have the heart for another debate, he was so tired of Roger looking at him like this like he despised him with every fibre of his being. As if he wanted to strangle him in his sleep.   
It cut through him like a scalpel and though he would never admit it aloud to anyone, it had made him cry himself to sleep yesterday.

''There's a note,'' Roger pointed at the countertop when Freddie remained stubbornly silent, determined to not get into it again. He lifted the handwritten piece of paper from the counter and read the first line of it, sighing deeply. ''What?'' Roger snarled. His half-smoked fag dangling between his lips.   
_''Dear Freddie and Roger,''_ Freddie read out loud, recognizing Brian's unreadable, scribbled handwriting.

Roger interrupted him instantly, scoffing. ''It does _not_ say that you bellend! You're making that up,'' he accused, shaking his head in disbelief like Freddie was lying to him.  
Freddie handed Roger the note, feeling his own hands quiver with deep seethed anger that Roger was questioning him once again. Roger ogled the paper and read it twice, his ice blue glaciers widening in shock. ''They wouldn't dare-''

''What? What did they do? Pray tell! I only read the first line,'' Freddie inquired.  
Roger snorted heatedly, blowing out a circle of smoke. ''They fucking locked us in,''  
''Excuse me?''

Roger read the entire note to him _. ''Dear Freddie and Roger, we are completely and utterly sick of your fighting and have decided to lock you into the house together until you sort this shit out. The doors are locked and we took all the keys with us so don't even bother to get out. There's enough food for a few days. We will frequently call to check in with you to see if we can let you out yet. Get over yourselves you pompous buggers! Love Bri, Deaky and Paul,''_

Freddie felt the floor evaporate underneath his feet. He was _trapped_ in here, with Roger while his friends were going on a sodding strike.  
Roger, who positively hated his guts right now. Who was now needlessly running up and down the premises, checking each door just to be sure Brian wasn't lying. The grim look on his face when he returned told Freddie what he already knew. Brian, devious little shit that he was, wouldn't be bluffing, he had imprisoned them there and thrown away the fucking key, forcing them to deal with each other. 

And they would not be able to escape each other, nor hide behind their friends and use them for cover. This was just perfect.

Roger furiously tossed the letter onto the kitchen table and placed the kettle on the stove boiling some water for his morning cup of tea. He didn't ask Freddie if he wanted tea like Freddie knew he wouldn't.  
He simply made it in sullen silence, filled his mug with Earl Grey and disappeared into his room without a word, slamming the door shut with a loud exaggerated bang that was classic Roger when he was feeling prissy.   
Freddie wanted to stop him, say something that would make it better but for once in his bloody life, he was at a total loss for words.

He decided to make himself a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table, tears stinging behind his eyes.  
He wanted to solve this immediately but sensed that Roger needed time. If he pushed him he would ruin everything even more. Freddie had to be patient with him and granted, that had never been his forte.  
The phone rang and Freddie knocked his mug over, startled. He threw a raggy tea cloth at the soaking wooden table and ran to the telephone, picking up the horn. ''Hello?''  
''It's me,'' Brian's soothing voice stated. ''I'm just checking in as promised,''  
Freddie really wanted to shout at him, he truly did, but an unbiased part of him could relate as to why Brian had come up with this plan. He might have done the same if the roles were reversed. Brian was really sensitive to tension and Freddie knew he owed it to him and the others to solve this shit with Roger. He just didn't have a clue as to where to start.

''I should get apocalyptically cross at you for plotting this, darling,'' Freddie told him. Brian sniggered on the other side of the line. ''But you won't,''  
''But I won't, because you are right. This has to end. I hate this too and I want it to be over. I just don't know how to fix this,''  
''Give him some time, he will come around. There are no more distractions any longer, so in time he will talk to you, staying silent will drive him absolutely mad. That is when you can start to mend this. He loves you fiercely Fred, but you've hurt him. Really hurt him. Your approval means more to him than anyone else's in this whole entire world. And you cast him down,''

Freddie protested instantly. ''I didn't! I would never-''  
''Not intentionally mate, but in Rog's eyes, you did. By writing off his song like it's absolute shit makes him feel like you dismissed him personally. That he has no talent. He _needs_ your support, even when you think his song is utterly ridiculous,''  
''I reckon that I already lost him Bri, it feels like I did. Like he will always stay raging mad at me,''  
''You haven't lost anything, not yet. Just talk to him, swallow your pride if that's what it takes for him to forgive you. Do whatever is necessary. We can't take this toxic atmosphere any longer. I can't work like this. Please, Fred, do it for all of us,''  
''Oh fine but what the hell are we supposed to do here all day? How will we feed ourselves without you here to cook for us?''  
''I've left some prepared casseroles in the refrigerator, you will have dinner for tonight and tomorrow. After that, well I suggest you two improvise. The sooner you salvage this heaping mess the sooner we can all get back to work,'' Brian stated stoically, his voice kind and patient.

Freddie already missed him. He relied on Brian far more than Brian even knew. When it came to their music they were a well-oiled machine and even though they bickered about literally every note, doing that only improved their results, enhancing the quality of their songs.  
Being a pair of tenacious perfectionists actually worked in their favour. It felt odd and unnerving, being there without Brian. It strangely felt as if someone had taken the training wheels off his bicycle and shoved him down a mountain without any steering or brakes.

''Fine, will you call me later today? And is Deaky there, I want to speak to him,''  
''He's gone out for a walk Fred, but I'll have him give you a ring when he comes back all right?''  
''Okay, where are you guys anyway?''  
''Close by in the village, we're staying at that kitschy Bed and Breakfast Deaky loved so much-remember?''  
Freddie chuckled humorlessly. ''Oh right, that place is ghastly,''  
''Take care now Fred, I have to go,''  
''Say hello to the lads for me darling, will you?''  
''I will talk soon,''  
''Bye Bri,''  
''Goodbye Fred,'' Brian ended the call and Freddie sat there for a while, clenching the horn in his hand. Well, today would surely be interesting. He heard a creaking door open upstairs and then another thud, followed by the sound of running water. Roger was showering to cool off.

The idea of not being able to elude Roger or to even sneak outside for a walk was paralyzing Freddie. He felt an agonizing panic rise up in his chest and his headache increased with each impending minute. He went upstairs to collect the aspirin and swallowed them with the remains of his cold tea. His stomach growled a bit, complaining that it was long overdue for some food but the very idea of eating anything revolted Freddie.  
He felt nauseous and incredibly apprehensive.  
He needed a drink the size of his head much more than he needed food but he was pretty certain that Brian would have taken off with all the alcohol.

As he snuck back downstairs and frantically rummaged through the cabinets he found out that he was wrong about that. Brian had left exactly one bottle of vodka behind. One. And there were a few lagers in the refrigerator but that was pretty much it. So much for liquid courage.  
He hid the bottle of Vodka in the cabinet in his room, not wanting Roger to know about it, otherwise, he would surely have to share it and he wasn't in a very giving mood at the moment. Plus the bottle could offer up some form of leverage if Roger got really desperate for alcohol.  
He could use it to get Roger to talk to him, hopefully. _Maybe_.

He heard Roger rummage around in the bathroom, probably doing his hair and he silently stepped down the stairs, making himself some more tea.  
Roger finally came down too, half an hour later, looking positively wrecked and annoyed that Freddie was still present. As if he could go anywhere, Freddie grumbled to himself. He would have loved to flee outside to play with the red cat he'd befriended a few days ago, but he was stuck here with Roger.   
He shoved some bread in the toaster and sat down across from Freddie at the kitchen table, opening the newspaper that Brian had left behind, pretending that Freddie wasn't there.

Roger stood up to make himself some more tea. He was clad in a simple pair of black Adidas shorts with a matching polo and plain white flip-flops.

A red droplet landed on the eggshell-coloured countertop and Freddie gazed at it, narrowing his eyes at the blonde. ''Roger you're bleeding,''  
Roger grabbed a damp paper towel and wiped the blood away quietly. ''Are you-'' Freddie tried but Roger cut him off, revealing a small nick on his chin. "Cut myself shaving you numpty, it's nothing,''

The persistent silence returned as Roger turned his back to Freddie once again, waiting for the toast to be ready. When the bread sprung free, he threw them on a plate, smeared some butter and jam on it and basically fled to the stairs. ''Rog, wait,'' Freddie tried, his voice borderline fragile and shaky. Roger halted on the first step. ''Please?'' Freddie begged.

There was a muffled choke in Roger's remark, resembling a strained sob. ''I can't, not now,''  
''But-''  
''I said not now!!!'' Roger bellowed, clenching his balled fists. His porcelain cheeks were an unpleasant shade of crimson. The plate was shaking ominously in his hand. ''Leave me the fuck alone!''  
Freddie helplessly watched Roger disappear upstairs and laid his head in his hands, sobbing miserably.  
How was he ever going to make this right again? Roger didn't hold grudges, at least not that Freddie knew of, but this was different. He had been acting rather strange for weeks now, ever since they had arrived on the farm but Freddie wasn't certain as to what had changed between them. And then their fucking fight had destroyed everything even further.

Roger could be downright impossible at times. As stubborn as a child that didn't get his way, relentless, petulant and annoying as fuck. But Freddie adored all of him.  
He had known him for a very long time and his life with Roger in it had been far better than the one he had known before him.  
Roger could always brighten up his worst day, just with a stunning smile or a sarcastic joke. They were constantly having fun together or up to mischief, pranking Brian and Deaky all the time.

Freddie made himself some toast too and went upstairs to go into his bedroom. He rummaged around in the teak chest that he hid under his bed, pulling out his favourite sketchbook. He flipped through it until he found the drawing he was looking for. Roger didn't know he had this. Freddie had drawn a portrait of Roger ( no several portraits actually but this one was the best ) that he had made when Roger thought he wasn't looking. He was still making modifications to it when he wasn't completely content with the result.   
Other sketches he had created off old photographs that Brian had taken of them together.  
Freddie kept those polaroids in a photo-book his mother had given him for Christmas a few years ago. Now that Roger was so mad at him Freddie found himself looking at those pictures at every hour of the day to cheer him up, reminding him of a better time, one when Roger still looked at him as if he meant the world to him. As if he had hung the moon.

Freddie had been silently and hopelessly in love with Roger since the day he met him, but he never acted on his feelings, simply because Roger was inevitably straight.  
But also because he knew that even if their strange connection would eventually lead to a relationship, it would never last. It couldn't work.  
Somehow he could tell that it was all doomed to fail, even before it had begun. There was some form of strange finality that lingered over their relationship like an ominous cloud.  
Although they shared pretty much every little emotion and thought, Freddie remained convinced that Roger had no clue that he was in love with him. And even if he knew he didn't act on it, so that told Freddie that his love would never be returned. It made it easier, in a way, accepting the inevitable and moving on to best friends.

Roger was the one person on this entire fucking planet that Freddie could not afford to lose under any circumstance and so he had carefully tucked his feelings away, sealing them deep into his heart, throwing away the key.  
He would rather remain Roger's best friend his entire life than try something foolish that made him lose him forever. Nothing was worth losing Roger. Nothing. He had to win him back.

That was a form of sheer irony about this entire situation. Freddie, who was usually the designated mediator of the band, settling all their arguments, having to grovel and swallow his own stinking pride in order to win Roger back.  
It was foreign to him, then again fighting with Roger was not something he had ever done before either. He usually bitched at Brian but Roger, well he always had his back. Freddie wiped an insistent tear off his cheek, trying to get ahold of himself, scolding himself for being so weak.

The phone rang downstairs and as Freddie rose to get to the door, he heard Roger run down to answer it. He carefully placed his precious drawings back into the chest and slid it back under the bed. After a while, Roger shouted, ''Fred! Deaky wants to speak to you!''

Freddie stormed off the stairs and conveyed Roger, who sat at the kitchen table, his face completely unreadable for a change. He handed Freddie the horn and their fingers nearly brushed over each other. Nearly. Freddie craved to touch Roger.  
He wanted to tug him into his arms and never let him go. They were always so touchy with one another, Roger often parking himself onto Freddie's lap without asking if he could. Their hands forever lingering close together, an arm here, a leg there and now there was nothing. No contact whatsoever. Freddie was _starved_ for it.

''Thank you,'' he blurted out.  
Roger gave him a quick nod and went into the conservatory, closing the door behind him. Freddie placed the horn at his ear. ''Hey Deaks,''  
''Hello Fred, how are you two holding up?''  
''Spectacular,'' Freddie snorted sardonically.  
''Look, we didn't want to do this but you two left us little choice you know. We had to do something,''  
''Well you can tell Brian that his plan royally sucks,'' Freddie complained.

Deaky chuckled mildly. ''Actually, you can thank _me_ for this plan, not him,''  
Freddie nearly tumbled off his chair, shocked at that statement. ''You-you did this? My God Deaky I guess I'll have to kick _your_  wee ass for it when you come back,''  
''Well I told Brian that the only solution might be to lock you two in a confined space together and he sort of decided to execute that, so in a way, I helped but he's the one who convinced us to actually go through with it,''  
''Fantastic,''  
''Look we didn't have much of a choice now did we? It was either this or accept the fact that this would likely mean the end of Queen. We just tried to save the band Fred, it was nothing personal,''  
''It feels pretty fucking personal, dear,''  
''I understand that, but we love you both and we just want you to kiss and make up. Don't be too hard on Bri okay? He feels bad enough about this as it is. He's been fussing and worrying about this ever since we left you alone. He's only trying to help,''

Well, that was certainly alien to Freddie, seeing Deaky take Brian's side for a change. Usually, they disagreed about pretty much everything. And Brian hadn't told on Deaky either when Freddie spoke to him earlier, not revealing that it had originally been Deaky's idea.  
''Fine, I won't be that cross with you nor Bri. I miss you guys though, this is a pretty sticky situation,'' Freddie admitted, exhaling dramatically.  
''I know, we miss you guys too. But not that much. Mostly we're relieved to be out of the tension, to be honest,''  
''Always the brutally honest one aren't you, love,'' Freddie retorted, smirking to himself.  
''You love it,''  
''Not right now Deaks,''  
''Just give him some time and when he's ready you'll make up, right?''  
''I hope so,'' Freddie said truthfully. He had no clue whether he would be able to win Roger back, the sheer fear that he had ruined everything forever was crippling him.  
''It's not just about the song Fred, you do get that right?'' Deaky murmured mysteriously.

Freddie's heart stopped in his chest, a stone dropping on his stomach. ''What do you mean?''  
''You don't-you really don't know?''  
''Know what Deaky?''  
''Oh no I can't, I assumed that-well-you should talk to Roger about this. I can't betray his trust,''  
''Jesus Christ will you just fucking tell me what you're babbling about?''  
''No, I can't Fred, I'm sorry. You see this is why we're doing this, to get you two to open up, to clear the air so to say,''  
''I hate it when you're being cryptic like this darling, you sound like a bloody Brian clone. I want my Deaky back,''  
''I'm sorry Fred, but uh I have to go now. We're going for lunch. Hang in there all right. We'll call you this afternoon,'' Deaky said evasively.  
''Say hello to Paul for me,''  
''Will do, bye mate,'' Deaky exclaimed. He ended the call before Freddie could say anything back to him. He placed the horn on the receiver and tried to focus his mind.

Thousands upon thousands of questions were circling around inside of his head, some even more ludicrous than the others. What had Deaky been going on about?

Was Roger mad at him for another reason than his reluctant response to _'I'm in love with my car,'_ and if so what was it? And why did everyone apparently know that reason aside from Freddie himself?  
He detested feeling so helpless, so left in the dark. He needed questions to his answers. But Roger wasn't ready to speak to him just yet, he could feel hot bursts of liquid lava radiating off of him all the way from the conservatory, warning him not to bother him or else he would pay for it.

Freddie snuck into the living room and sat down behind the piano. He should really get to work. There was still a piece of lyric that he hadn't filled in Bohemian Rhapsody. He was searching for the right words to fit into the interval for a long time now and yet nothing ever came to mind. Until now.  
Inspiration engulfed him like a tidal wave, his own misery clearly improving his writing skills. He pressed down on the piano keys and started singing, his heart wailing and crying out with each note that left his lips.  
_''Mama oooh, I don't wanna die. I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all. Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters,''_

He felt his heart break torturously and tears reemerging behind his eyes. The rawness and sheer honesty behind the words moving him as he gasped at his own revelation. ''Oh that's really good,'' he said to himself, feeling dampness spread over his cheek.

A door closed softly behind him and light footsteps turned away. Freddie's breath hitched. Roger had heard him...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC......._


	2. You've broken my heart and now you leave me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger wants to forget what he heard Freddie sing but he can't. So he decides to face his friend and ask him about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long you guys. My stupid hernia and work got in the way.  
> I hope you like it. I had fun writing this from Roger's POV. It was a first for me and I hope I portrayed him right. 
> 
> Go easy on me because many things may not be correct. This is just my imagination after all. 
> 
> Don't be shy in pointing out grammar mistakes. <3
> 
> Notes and kudos are loved!!

_Roger._

 

 

 

_''I don't wanna die, I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all,''_

The mysterious context behind the words kept circling around like a pack of vultures in Roger's mind as he fled up the stairs and camped himself in his bedroom. He laid down on his crappy mattress and folded his arm behind his head.  
He needed to think long and hard. Freddie had startled him and now he was truly concerned about him, while he rightly should still be epically upset with his best friend. And he was still seething at Freddie, but right now he had larger worries.  
Even when Freddie was being a pompous, arrogant prat Roger still loved him.

Their latest version of world war three did very little to change that. Nothing could ever change that, Roger was stuck with Freddie, tethered to him with an unbreakable chain whether he liked it or not.  
Whether Freddie like it or not. The conjoined twins, as Brian and Deaky jokingly used to call them. It was impossible to even think about separating them. When you would see one of them, the other would surely be close behind.

 _''I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all,''_ he mumbled aloud, desperately trying to comprehend what Freddie had meant by that, why he had gone so far out of context and took a turn into the dark.  
Most of Bohemian Rhapsody's lyrics were pretty out there and Roger hadn't the faintest clue what they meant, with Freddie, you never knew but this was different. Roger shouldn't have been peeking inside when he heard Freddie play on the piano, but he was such a beautiful underrated pianist and the notes carried themselves to Roger's ears, luring him along like a Siren.  
And Roger had missed hearing Freddie play for him.  
Thus explaining why his legs had brought him to the living room on their own accord. As he stood there, listening to Freddie's improvisation it felt as if the world suddenly made sense again, as things would be all right between them. But then he had sung that chilling line that turned Roger's blood cold and his insides to ice.

And now, instead of being fucking pissed off the majority of his mind was just laced with profound concern. Was Freddie actually depressed? Should they send him to a therapist? Was this all Roger's fault?  
Why would he even sing something like that? It was incredibly beautiful and would send shivers over everyone's spine with its rawness but Roger couldn't ignore the fleeting sense of panic that settled into his chest, spreading throughout his system.  
He was obsessing over it and went through his cigarettes in a tempo that would have set Brian off if he'd seen him. He wanted to talk to Brian. He always knew what to do.

Placing his head in his hands he felt the residue of his lousy hangover settling in his head, tormenting him.  
The lack of sleep, the heat of the day and copious amounts of alcohol were weighing him down, not to mention the stress of his current predicament, being stuck in the same house with Freddie and not being able to escape him. He replaced his polo with a light blue tank top, the vast air slowly suffocating him. He was sweating like crazy again and the day had only just begun. Leave it to Deaky to seal them in a poorly ventilated house on some of the hottest days of the year. 

In the barnyard the bloody rooster was going off like a car alarm again, god only knew why since it was long past dawn, and Roger groaned.  
He hated that bloody rooster, it constantly woke him from his much-needed beauty sleep after a night out. At five in the morning! He had been plotting its murder for a while now, one day he would kill it and have Brian pluck it and serve it for dinner.  
Roger positively hated the chickens, he didn't trust them and was secretly a bit afraid of them.  
To say that farm life was not really his thing was putting it mildly. He loathed the permanent stench of dung that lingered around on the farm, the constant mooing of the cows, the pertinent smell of hay. The only good thing was the tennis court around the corner.

He favoured a more contemporary setting where things didn't stank or were covered in mud all the fucking time. The one thing that truly pleased him about the farm was the rather spacious conservatory, stacked with multiple bookshelves, comfy sofas and a vintage record player that originated from before world war two.  
Roger had a thing for sophisticated conservatories with large windows and cosy armchairs and spent most of his evenings in there, reading a book or playing Scrabble with his friends.

Contrary to him, Brian was completely in his element here, considering he had grown up in the countryside but Roger saw the Ridge farm as the seventh circle of hell.  
Freddie adapted to it rather easily and Deaky was fine with wherever you put him, as long as he could bring his bass guitar along.

If he would get ahold of Deaky he would kick his arse for doing this to him, he vowed. Knowing full well that it was a hollow promise, Roger could never stay mad at Deaky for long.  
He was a sly little bugger who often pulled things like this but somehow always got away with them because he had the best faux innocent face that Roger had ever seen. Also, he was the designated baby of the group and especially Freddie tended to be overly protective of him, so even if Roger managed to find the actual determination to stomp Johnny boy into the ground for plotting this, he would have to get past Freddie first. Not that Roger would mind punching Freddie in the face at the moment. But that was all talk, big words of bravado that meant nothing, not really.

Paul on the other hand, now that was another story entirely. Roger would love to fling him out the bloody window. He was a bad influence on Freddie and Roger loathed him with all his heart.  
They all saw it but Freddie seemed to be stoically blind to it, probably because he was shagging him, Roger suspected.  
The devious Irishman was constantly touching Freddie with his ratty little fingers, whispering something in his ear so that Roger couldn't hear it, separating him from the rest of them. Isolating Freddie from him. Roger _hated_ it. Hated him and as much as he would like to punch Freddie, he would have to take a number because Paul was still on top of his list.  
He was also cross with Freddie for letting him do it, for actually allowing Paul to form a wedge between them and ruin what they had.

That was probably the one upside to being trapped in there with Freddie, to speak freely to him without Paul looming nearby in the corner, trying to come between them. For once, he wasn't there to put evil notions in Freddie's mind. 

Not speaking to Freddie for ages felt like someone had literally removed his insides with a blunt butter knife and replaced them with dust. Everything felt hollow, unreal, tasted a little less good.  
As if Roger was walking with his head underwater.  
At certain times he was one hundred per cent convinced that he had dreamt it all, that Freddie had never said what he said about the inferiority of his song and that everything was normal again, but reality always knocked him off his socks.  
He wanted to salvage this but was too bloody proud to take the first step. Freddie was the one who had to come with the apology, being the one who had said all those fucking awful things that had made him question himself terribly.  
Roger still heard them at night when he feigned to be asleep.  
Freddie had stolen his sleep and left him lying on the curb like a stray dog, feeling worthless, miserable and alone. Freddie had robbed him of all things that felt good, leaving only emptiness behind.

He wanted to hate Freddie for what he'd said but attempting to feel that was completely futile. Freddie meant everything to him, he was his best mate, the man who Roger had known for nearly seven years now, who he'd shared a market stall with, joked around with and who was always there for him when he needed him. Always.  
When Roger was upset or needed something Freddie came through, no matter what happened between them.  
Even in the middle of the night, Freddie would cross through the heart of London to visit Roger when he had gotten into a bad fight with his father.  
He would ring Freddie for help, not Brian because he needed Freddie's comfort more.  
He had known Brian longer and considered him to be one of his dearest friends but Freddie knew him inside out and could handle an upset Roger far better than Brian ever could.  
Because he understood him with one glance. Freddie felt precisely what he felt.  
One time Freddie had run into some trouble at the market and Roger had literally sensed his distress as if Freddie was calling out to him from far away. Quite often when they rang each other the other would reply with ''Yes Fred,'' or ''Hello Rog,'' already knowing who was calling long before picking up.  
Limbic resonance, Brian had called it, some scientific term for people who were able to sense each other's emotions from miles away.

It wasn't easy, feeling that profound level of a connection to another human being, feeling so incredibly alone when you were apart from them. It had its consequences, its cost especially during a fight.  
Roger couldn't eat, barely drank enough water and smoked like a chimney. Oh, and he drank like an Irishman on Saint Patrick's day. Spending last night in the pub had sadly only made him feel more confused.

He went in there all the time to pick up girls, trying to shag his problems away, but instead, he had found himself cornered in the bathroom by a rather pushy bloke who had abruptly shoved his tongue passed Roger's lips, kissing him until he saw stars.  
A hand rubbing insistently over his crotch, pressing down hard, trying to wriggle its way past his zipper and into his trousers.  
Roger had shoved him off him, shouting at the man that he wasn't a queer and made a run for it before he would get into even more trouble.  
Being kissed by a bloke had resulted in a sleepless night and an overworked brain that tried to make sense of how he felt about it. The worst thing was that he hadn't hated it, feeling another man's lips pressed to his own. It should have repulsed him and yet it hadn't.  
Roger frequently found himself thinking about it, wondering what it meant that he wasn't disgusted by it. Was he actually gay? And if he wasn't, then why had he been painfully hard when he had felt that hand on his erection?

He had been questioning his sexuality for a while now, mostly due to certain similar events.  
Pretty looking blokes coming up to him at parties, after concerts, asking him if he was willing to go home with them, complimenting him on his looks. Telling him that it was a shame that he wasn't interested in partying and expanding his view. That he would _enjoy_ it, truly.  
And Roger hadn't felt repulsed by it as much he should have. Like a straight man surely would have felt. In fact, it had only piqued his curiosity.

Freddie being so open about his own _alleged_ bisexuality only made it worse for him. Touching Roger all the time, even in places that were not really normal not even for best mates. Roger frequently found himself lured in by Freddie, especially during the sexual crisis he was facing. The older man was incredibly hot in every sense of the word, his body constantly beaming heat and sexual energy that made it impossible for you not to look at him. He could sit in front of a fireplace in his old clothes with a book in his hand and still look so incredibly sensual. Freddie was  _enticing_ and seductive and lately, Roger caught himself staring at him much more than he should have. Freddie would make an excellent mentor if Roger would be willing to explore himself, he was sure of it. Or perhaps he wouldn't be interested in ruining their relationship and would tell Roger to piss off. That was another probability. A far less pleasant one but still a reality. 

The only one that he had told about his reoccurring doubts regarding his sexuality was Deaky, after far too many drinks. He barely recalled what Deaky had said to him but he knew that their bass player would never betray his trust. He couldn't tell Brian about it, seeing how he would read far too much into it and place him under the microscope as if he was an interesting piece of meteorite that he wanted to investigate.

If he hadn't been fighting with Freddie he would have gone to him for advice considering his sexual preferences but alas Freddie was the one person who he couldn't talk to. And even if he could he highly doubted that he would have the nerve for it. Having to go through his existential crisis all by himself only made him feel more alone and longing to speak to Freddie again. To salvage this.

He had to get himself together, set his priorities to his current predicament. Talk to Freddie, somehow get this shit solved so that they could leave this sodding farm.  
But how in all that was good and holy was he supposed to achieve that?

The fluent sounds of the piano erupted from downstairs and he exhaled miserably. He had to find the strength to talk to Freddie. He had to know whether he was in danger or not.  
This could be a serious threat and Roger was half convinced that if he lost Freddie he would never be able to recover from it.  
Perhaps he would die with him if it ever came to that. Half of his heart surely would.

He reluctantly hauled himself up from the shitty bed and made his way back to the living room, stepping as silently as he could. Not wanting to spook Freddie or chase him off.  
Peeking his head around the corner, he saw Freddie sitting at his most beloved instrument, shaking his head for hitting a wrong note, swearing softly to himself.  
A half-lit fag burning away in the ashtray, idly waiting to be lifted again.  
Freddie had consistently been his own worst critic. Nothing was ever good enough for him, which was exactly why his work was so brilliant and why Freddie would lead them to absolute greatness.  
He knew he didn't have to announce his arrival, surely Freddie would have picked up on his sulky presence but if he had, he didn't let Roger know it. Freddie's emotions were sealed off for once, heavily guarded by a Chinese wall so that Roger couldn't peek inside. This was definitely new and Roger didn't like the experience, feeling so reclusive from Freddie was fucking horrible.  
He needlessly cleared his throat, as if Freddie wasn't aware of his arrival and mustered all of his courage to force the words from his lips. ''Did you mean it?''

Freddie let out a massive sigh before stalling his fingers, seizing on the keys. He lifted the nearly burnt fag and smoked the remains in a pensive, palpable silence before stubbing it out. The voice that erupted was barely audible to Roger. ''Sometimes,''

That retort sent Roger's mind into a panicky overdrive. He had to say something coherent, something clever and yet all that he could come up with was a moronic, ''Why?''  
Freddie turned on his stool to face him, arms crossed protectively before his chest as if he feared Roger might stab him. ''Oh so now you want to talk to me? Now you are _pretending_ to care,'' he huffed, snorting mockingly. ''Fuck off Rog,''

The old fury he had felt for the past few days returned to Roger's heart at Freddie's snooty remark and he felt his fists balling and his heart pumping behind his ears. ''You know, you have a lot of fucking nerve Fred, after all, you said to me. To bloody act like I don't care about you. You expect me to listen to you sing something dark like that and to not ask you why you sang it? I can't be worried about a line like that?''

Freddie shrugged evasively, lighting another cigarette. ''They are merely lyrics, Roger, they don't have to mean anything when I write them, you know that. Half of the lines I compose don't mean shit,''

Roger wasn't buying it, not one bit. This was classic Freddie when you had backed him into a corner. He was like a boisterous shadow cat. When you pushed him too far the claws came out and he lashed out at you.  
That was his self taught coping mechanism, going on the offensive as a way to defend himself from getting even more hurt.  
The words on their own meant nothing. Not really. He would say those things to divert you from focusing on him. He was sly like that but Roger knew him too well to fall for it.

''Don't insult me, Fred, you've insulted me quite enough lately don't you think? I'm not Deaky nor Brian you know. I know you, I know what's in your heart even if you want to lie about it. And that line did not mean shit. At least have the sodding decency to admit that much to me. You owe me that courtesy don't you think?'' Roger choked out.  
He was so angry.  
He flew off the handle rather quickly with most things but his falling out with Freddie had resulted to the most furious he had ever felt in his entire life. Also the most powerless, in an ironic way. His pent up anger building without any hope of being released. In fact, Freddie was only adding insult to injury.

''I don't owe you a fucking _thing_ ,''

Roger ground his teeth in the hopes he could prevent himself from screaming. ''You arrogant piece of shit. You know what? Fine, if you want to play it like this I'll leave you alone. We can rot on this stinking farm until we starve to death. Or you can admit that you were a complete arsehole to me and we can get the hell out of his place. Your choice,''

''I might be an arrogant arse but your song is simply too weak to be on the B-side of Bohemian Rhapsody, dear,'' Freddie sneered dismissively, voice stubborn and borderline cruel.  
''Oh piss off!'' Roger shouted, kicking a teak chair over because he couldn't stop himself. He had to break something when he felt powerless like this. Preferably his drumsticks or something that was easily replaced but when those weren't around he would go for whatever was conveniently close by.  
Freddie glared at him, looking completely unmovable and unfazed by the weight of Roger's infamous temperament. ''Are you finished?''

_''Are you?''_

''Rog, what happened to your shoulder?'' Freddie asked suddenly, conveying him keenly, his hawk eyes bearing into Roger.  
Roger frowned and turned his head to see what Freddie was going on about. There was a rectangular bruise on his right shoulder-blade. A rather purplish one. Barely visible due to the narrow fabric of Roger's blue top but somehow Freddie had noticed.  
''I don't know,'' Roger proclaimed truthfully.

Freddie crossed the distance to him and gently nudged the band of the shirt down so that he could investigate the bruise a bit further. Concern laced throughout his ebony eyes. Only Freddie could be mercurial like this, stampeding unceremoniously over your heart only to kiss it better as if nothing ever happened the next moment. ''Did something happen last night?''

Roger shrugged callously. ''I went to Rusper, you know,''  
''Yes I do recall that considering I saw you leave in your favourite party outfit,'' Freddie's soft fingers ghosted over the bruise creating a warm sensation within Roger's chest. God how he needed this, he was starved for some physical contact. ''So what happened in the pub?''

Roger snarled sarcastically, mimicking Freddie's own words, throwing them back in his face. ''Oh so  _now_ _you're_ pretending to care?''  
Freddie folded his other hand onto Roger's other shoulder, locking him firmly in his grasp. ''Rog, don't be like that, please. Just talk to me,''  
Roger shook his head zealously. No, he couldn't. Didn't Freddie understand that he was the last person on planet earth that he could talk to about all of this? ''I can't-''  
''Why not, darling?''

 _Darling_. Freddie hadn't called him that with that much fondness in a long time. In what felt like forever. Roger swallowed heavily. ''It's complicated you know,''  
''Yes, I'm sure it is. You are a complex man, love, but still, if anyone harmed you I want to know about it so that I can kick them in their face for it. No one gets to hurt you,''  
''No one but _you_ apparently,'' Roger snorted sullen, stepping back and reluctantly wriggling himself out of the safety of Freddie's grip.  
That statement cut through Roger the same way it would do to Freddie. Defeat and tears shone in the singer's eyes. ''Can you please not say such things, dear. It's fucking painful and I'm beyond sick of us hurting each other,''

''Fine, give me the B-side and I'll forgive you,'' Roger negotiated, folding his arms in front of his chest.  
''No,''  
''Then I guess I'm staying mad at you,''  
''Rog, why exactly is this bloody song so important to you?'' Freddie inquired, wildly gesturing his hands into the air with a hint of his usual dramatics.   
''Oh so now you want to know?''  
''Stop being a stubborn little shit and tell me,''  
_''Nope,''_  
''Really?''  
''Really,'' Roger confirmed. Freddie could royally fuck off. Roger was in no mood to give him anything after how he pissed all over his song a week ago.

Freddie was obviously praying for patience, his cheeks a bit flustered and his face contorted into a grimace. ''Fine, but then you have to tell me what happened last night,''  
Now that was something Roger hadn't anticipated on, that Freddie would be this persistent on getting the truth out of him on what happened in the pub. Although he should have seen it coming. He knew that no matter how many knives they planted in each other's back, they ultimately always had each other's back. Roger would have responded exactly the same if he had seen a big bruise on Freddie. Even if he rightfully loathed his guts right now.

''So it's either tell you why I want _'I'm in love with my car,'_ on the B-side or spill my beans about what happened last night?''  
''Precisely, dear,''  
''Good plan, but you seem to be forgetting one thing, Fred,''  
''What's that?''

Roger glared at his legs and smirked wide. ''Wait a minute. Yes I do have legs, see you later,'' He nearly ran out of the conservatory but Freddie somehow beat him to the door, grabbing onto his wrist and pressing him up against the wall using his weight in his favour. He exhaled heatedly, his fingers delving hard into Roger's skin. ''Don't be such a little bitch, talk to me! Please, Rog,''  
Being in such close proximity to Freddie made Roger feel a bit lightheaded and unsure as to what to do next.  
What could he say? He didn't even remember if the bloke who kissed him had also bruised his skin. He was so drunk that he barely recalled how he got home, the entire walk missing from his memory. It was all so blurry. 

''Did you get into a fight with anyone?'' Freddie pressed on mercilessly, his arms and legs completely blocking Roger in. Their joint chests were heaving together and Roger forced himself to look anywhere but in Freddie's questioning eyes, not wanting to reveal too much of himself to him. Freddie saw right through him and right now that was far too risky. Freddie was too close, he had blatantly parked himself into Roger's personal space making him very uncomfortable and he could only hope that he wouldn't get a hard-on. That would be disastrous. 

He ogled the plain ceiling evasively and retorted, ''No,''  
''What happened then?''  
Roger gnawed on his lower lip, anxiously trying to divert Freddie from this topic but already sensing that doing so would be futile.  
Freddie wasn't going to let this go. Erratic, poorly chosen words came pouring out of his mouth before he could restrain himself. ''Some bloke put his hands on me all right!!! He saw me in the bathroom, said something flirty and suddenly kissed me out of nowhere and then, well I guess he grabbed me!!! I can't remember that but it had to be him,''

Freddie looked positively ready to burst, eyes aghast and gaunt. He was silent for a long time before he spoke once again, measuring each word carefully. ''Rog, I have to ask you something very important now,''  
''He _didn't_ rape me, Fred,''  
''Are you absolutely certain about that?''  
''I think my arse would have hurt like hell if he had. No, I shoved him off me and ran, I promise you,''  
Freddie looked as fragile as a child, lips quivering and his eyes laced with relief that Roger hadn't been seriously harmed. ''Good that's something at least. I'm sorry that happened to you, darling. That must have been hard for you, to be groped like that by a bloke,''

Roger gnawed on his lip once more, hoping he could prevent himself from saying something hysterical or stupid. Freddie's gaze bore a hole into him, awaiting an answer that never came. ''Can I go to my room now? I told you what happened,''

''Roger-''  
''Please Fred? I've had enough, for now, you have to let me be for a little bit,''  
''All right go on then,''  
Roger turned on his heels and opened the door, relieved and yet also despising himself for being such a snivelling coward. Feeling bad that he was leaving Freddie hanging his hand found its way to Freddie's forearm, holding onto it for a moment. ''I just need a bit of time, Fred, you know? We'll talk later all right? For now, I just need some more space,''

It wasn't a total lie, half of him craved for some radio silence but the other half was longing to speak to Freddie. About nothing in particular, about the mysteries of the universe or the lyrics to their songs. _Anything_.  
Play a game of Scrabble with him, prank Brian by stealing his clogs and hiding them in the barn.  
Anything would be better than this. Being apart from Freddie was becoming simply unbearable. And yet Roger was just as guilty for prolonging their misery by behaving like a stubborn, petulant brat. Neither of them was willing to compromise just yet. 

In all the frenzy of their debate, Roger had nearly forgotten about the very reason as to why he had come downstairs in the first place. Freddie's lyrics. ''Fred?''  
''What?'' Freddie spat out hotly.  
''Should I be worried about you? For what you were singing?''  
Freddie fell back into that _intolerable_ silence that made Roger even more concerned. He turned to face him and took Freddie's hands into his own, clenching on tight. ''Freddie, please talk to me. No matter how mad I am at you I...well I can't lose you. I love you,'' he sniffled emotionally, trying to fight his tears back for failing badly.

Freddie nearly looked surprised at that revelation but quickly masqueraded that by smiling and leaning in to kiss Roger's forehead. His warm hands were firmly cradled to Roger's hot, damp cheeks.  
''And I love you, darling, come here,'' Freddie crooned fondly, collecting Roger close to his chest so that he was incredibly snug and comfortable. His head rested onto Freddie's shoulder, nose pressed into the nape of his neck, tickling against his long hair. His shaky arms bore into Freddie's back, pleading for more contact, to deepen the embrace even further.  
Freddie's long fingers ghosted over his lower back, caressing him like he had countless times when Roger was upset.  
They hadn't hugged like that in so long. It felt so good, so familiar and warm and Roger hardly noticed that he was crying. ''You don't have to worry about me, my love, I'm not going anywhere. Like it or not you're _forever_ stuck with me,''

Roger snuffed loud. He wanted to believe that was true, he had to know for certain. ''Promise me? That you'll never leave me no matter what happens with us?''

Freddie ducked his head away from Roger's grasp and their eyes finally met. Freddie had been crying too, that much was evident. His fingers cupped Roger's cheeks and held him firm. ''I promise Rog, you'll _always_ have me. No matter what,''

Roger let out a mangled sob and hauled Freddie back into his arms, sobbing until he no longer had any tears to shed. It was enough, for now. He felt safe and loved. Freddie wouldn't leave him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC......_


	3. Love of my life can't you see?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie makes a decision that surprises everyone around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking this long to update this guys. My back was killing me and I had no inspiration. This is a bit shorter than usual but I hope you like it. 
> 
> I fixed a wrong here that won't be canon but I don't care. 
> 
> There will be one or two chapters more after this. But then it will be done. We're nearly there.

_Freddie._

 

 

 

The rest of the day passed without further incidents between them.  
Roger spent most of the day in the conservatory, reading while Freddie worked on his beloved Rhapsody. Freddie knew that Roger would surely be missing his drum kit right around now. It was held hostage in the recording studio and as that was in the opposite barn, therefore impossible to reach. Now that was a brilliantly cunning play on Brian and Deaky's behalf.  
In their minds, they reckoned that withholding Roger's drums would lead to him caving more easily and making up with Freddie.  
Freddie, however, knew better. Roger would go a month without them before he would give in, being the stubborn little mule that he was.

Roger ate his supper in the conservatory while Freddie ate it at the kitchen table. Afterwards, Brian called once again, asking about their progress. Freddie had told him what he needed to know, not telling him about what had happened to Roger in the pub.  
If Roger wanted Brian to know about it he would tell Brian himself. Besides, it would only worry Brian and result into a sleepless night for their lovely guitarist. Freddie wanted to protect him from that, he owed him that much.  
He spoke to Paul and asked him what he had been up to that day. Deaky informed him that he had written a new baseline into his song called: 'You're my best friend.'  
When he ended the call he snuck into the other room to tell Roger about it. He was sitting in his favourite eggshell lazy sofa, a book in his hand and a fag in the other. He wore a green crop top over his shorts and was barefooted due to the warm evening. ''Brian, Deaky and Paul sent their regards,'' Freddie informed him.

Roger's eyes darkened with a looming warning residing in them that told Freddie that he had said something wrong again. ''What? I'm just the messenger,''  
''I don't want _his_ bloody regards,''  
''Who's? Paul?''  
Roger rolled his eyes sardonically, grunting impatiently. ''No Brian, I always loathed that curly-haired big ape. Yes of course Paul! Who else would I be talking about!''

Freddie exhaled angrily as he tried to keep his patience and solve this diplomatically. ''Rog, he's our assistant and our friend. He's here to help us,''

Roger snorted so loud that it nearly startled Freddie. ''Oh sure when it comes to _you_ he is so servile and yet when I want something from him, a sandwich, a pack of cigarettes or something like that he _refuses_ to get it for me! It's the same for Bri and Deaky. He's trying to isolate you from the rest of us can you truly not see that?  
He's a menacing, plotting, vile little bitch, Fred! And you're so blind to it, god, that is what's killing me the most about it. That you can't even see what he's doing to you. To us. He's trying to steal you away from us,''

Freddie had heard enough of this horse-shit and decided to intervene. He knelt down on the carpet in front of Roger and gazed decisively into his eyes. ''Don't you mean from _you?''_  
Roger bit his lip and let out a staggeringly large breath of smokey air. ''Yes, he's stealing you from _me_. Is that what you like to hear?''  
''Darling,'' Freddie proclaimed, scooting closer to Roger and taking his hands into his. ''No one can ever steal me away from you. _Ever_. You may not like to hear this right now but you are positively stuck with me, for the rest of your life,''

His words were greeted by a tiny smile that disappeared so quickly that Freddie wondered if he had imagined seeing it in the first place. ''But he is trying to create a wedge between us Fred, we all see it. Deaky and Bri know it too. Just because you're shagging your little pet doesn't mean-''

Freddie's heart stopped dead in its tracks, paralyzing him as he tried to digest what Roger had just said to him. This all made so much more sense now. Roger was jealous, but not in a best friend kind of manner, no Roger thought that he was sleeping with Paul and actually felt jealous because of it. Could this mean...  
No, it _couldn't_ be. He was imagining things.  
Roger was the epitome of a straight man. Then again, even straight men sometimes liked to experiment with other men.  
His hands quivered underneath Roger's slick palms. ''Rog darling, I'm _not_ shagging Paul,''  
Roger waved that away dismissively, shaking his head in disbelief, pulling his hands away from Freddie's grip. ''Yes you are, how can you not be? He's gay and you're gay so-''  
''Bisexual,'' Freddie corrected him instantly. They both knew that it was a sodding lie but Roger wouldn't correct it. Not now.

''Right _bisexual_ , of course. I'd nearly forgotten,''  
''Hey Blondie, listen to me: just because two men are both interested in sleeping with other men doesn't automatically mean that they will sleep with each other. For instance, you're probably not attracted to every lass you see either right?  
Or considering your reputation, maybe you are, I don't know.  
But I'm not. I have a very explicit taste in men and Paul, well he's not exactly on that list. So no I've never shagged him nor will I ever shag him. Happy now?''

Roger was still doubting him, he could tell. He narrowed his keen eyes, conveying him closely. ''I don't believe you,''  
''Then don't believe me, I know the truth,''  
''But then why-''  
''Why what, darling?''  
''Why aren't you picking up men you do like?''  
Now it was Freddie's turn to be backed into a corner. Roger was so eerily close to unfolding the truth. He had to sidestep it quickly before he got himself into gigantic trouble. He shrugged, pretending to be casual. ''I haven't seen any men that I like in Rusper,''

''Okay but as far as I can tell you haven't been with other men in a while back in London either. Why?''  
''Why is it so important to you my dear?'' Freddie deflected.  
Roger shrugged, pretending to act casual and mellow but Freddie saw right through it. ''It's not necessarily important, I'm just curious Fred,''  
When he realized that Freddie wouldn't respond to his question he went another direction. ''If I asked you to fire Paul right now, would you do it?''

Freddie sighed deflated. ''On what pretext, darling?''  
''Villainy,''  
''Not good enough Rog,''  
Roger's eyes were beaming with unnerving determination. ''All right, then try this: because none of your fellow bandmates and closest friends like or trust him. Is that a good enough reason for you? We all want him gone, we all mistrust him with you. Why would you be so insistent on keeping him around when we all want to fling him out the bloody window?  
Do you truly care so little for us? Don't you have faith in our judgement Fred?''

Freddie balled his fists. ''You mean _your_ judgement love, don't make this about Bri and Deaky. This is all you talking. You're so blinded by your jealousy that you're becoming rightfully paranoid,''

Roger was downright scary now, waves of fury bursting off him like an active volcano that was ready to burst. ''Yes, forgive me for trying to protect my best friend from the fucking leech that's trying to suck him dry. God, I'm an awful person.  
You know what? Fine. If you want to keep trusting that bellend that's your choice but when he fucks you over, and he will fuck you over, don't come crying back to me and ask for another chance because that ship will have sailed by then,''

Freddie wanted to dispute this, wanted to throw shade back at Roger but he couldn't. He was tired of fighting with him. It had sucked all the joy out of his life and he was done with it. ''I'm going to my room,'' he declared, standing up and turning on his heels to burst out of the conservatory, leaving a slightly dishevelled Roger behind.

But as it turned out he was not going to his room, his legs brought him to the kitchen and his hands picked up the telephone on their own. Brian, a voice in his mind told him. He had to speak to Brian.  
He needed his rationality but also his kind, soothing persona that always knew what to do.

He dialled the number of the bed and breakfast and was greeted by a long silence before someone finally answered. It was Deaky. ''Hello? John Deacon speaking,''  
Freddie chuckled at Deaky's polite manners. ''Hey Deaks, it's me,''  
''Oh hello Fred. How is it going? Did you make up yet?''  
Freddie scoffed woefully. ''Not even a little bit. In fact, I may have just made it ten times worse,''  
''God you two are bloody hopeless,''  
''I know, darling, hey can I talk to Bri for a moment? I have to ask him about something,''  
''Of course, I'll go and get him for you, one second,''  
''Thank you Deaky,''

After a brief silence, Brian's patient voice erupted from the other side of the line. ''Hello Fred,''  
''Hello darling,''  
''What's going on?''  
''I think I accidentally messed things up even further with Roger,''  
He heard Brian sigh. ''What did you do now?''  
''We had an argument over Paul. About that, I want to ask you something,''  
''All right,'' Brian sounded quite apprehensive as if he would rather talk about anything other than Paul.

''Is Roger right? Do you all dislike him? Mistrust him with me?'' Freddie had to know. Had to know if Roger had been plain jealous or whether he was actually on to something when he made his case against the Irishman.  
''Do you truly want to hear the answer to that?''  
Classic Brian, to be this politically correct and answer the precarious question by sidestepping it like this. Freddie groaned pensively. ''Well I think I just did. So he's right then. None of you particularly like nor trust him,''

''No, we don't trust nor like him. Especially not with you,''  
''Why? I mean do you have any concrete reasons for it?''

''It's just a feeling, Fred. The way he acts around you, how he constantly tries to wiggle his way between us and steer you into the opposite direction. He's stirring things up, secluding you from us. He does everything for you and treats you like a pampered little king but pretty much ignores the rest of us.  
He's crafting a rift between us, a wedge. And he's constantly creating tension. We all want to see him gone,''

Freddie felt as if someone had kicked him in his chest. ''Why did you never tell me?''

''Roger didn't want me to. He said you had to discover this for yourself and that talking to you about it would only result in giving Paul what he wants: isolating you even further from the rest of us. He argued that you had to be the one who unveiled Paul's mask yourself. That you would never listen to us if we told you because you were too blind to see the truth,''

''Did he also happen to claim that I was shagging Paul by any chance?''  
''Actually, that did come up once or twice yes,''  
''And did you believe him when he said that?''  
''No and neither did John. I know you wouldn't sleep with a close colleague, you're smarter than that,'' Brian reckoned.  
''Roger was so convinced I had, so adamant on it. I wonder what that was all about. I took it for small-mindedness but now I'm not so sure,'' Freddie mused.

''I don't have a clue, Fred,'' Brian said evasively.  
''You're evidently lying, I can tell. Your voice gets predominantly shaky and thin when you lie,''  
''It's not my business Fred, you should speak to Rog yourself. Not use me as the middle man again. But for your information: Roger is anything but small-minded and you know that. Give him some more credit please,''  
''So you think I should trust him, about Paul?''

Brian fell into one of his typical complacent silences before he finally spoke again. ''I think that if you don't you may lose him for good. You're standing on a crossroads right now Fred and what you do at this moment will determine the rest of your relationship with Roger. If you take the wrong turn, you may end up without him. And do you truly want to imagine your life without Roger in it?''  
''No, of course not. My insides turn to ice at the very idea,'' Freddie said instantly.  
He couldn't afford to lose Roger, not after all they had been through together. That was the one thing he knew for certain.  
And who was Paul to him, really? A good boost to his ego sure, a nice pet who treated him like royalty, but in the end, he was not worth losing Roger over. Brian was right, this was a turning point and he would not make the wrong decision again. ''Is Paul in?''

''Yes, he's in his room,''  
''Can you get him for me please?''  
''Fred, are you-''  
''Just do it, dear,''  
''All right, one moment,''

Freddie heard Brian leave the room and a door close nearby. When he came back Paul's voice erupted on the other edge of the line. ''Hello Freddie,''  
''Paul,'' he acknowledged curt. ''What is going on?'' Paul asked apprehensively.  
_''You're fired,''_  
''What?''  
''I said; you're fired,''  
''You can't be serious,''  
''But I am, serious as a heart attack,''  
''Why are you doing this? Did Roger put you up to it?''

Freddie scoffed humorlessly. Was he seriously about to pin this on Roger? After all, he had instigated between them. ''No Paul, this is my decision and mine alone. Roger doesn't even know about it. I'm done with you and I want you out of my life. I don't trust you any longer. So as soon as Roger and I get out of our cage, I want you to gather your shit and get out of my sight,''  
''You don't mean it, I know you don't. This is all Roger talking. He's turned you against me,'' Paul futilely disputed.

Freddie was bursting with deep seethed hatred that coursed through his veins. ''Don't you fucking dare say his name, don't you dare talk about him like that. You are the snake, Paul. You turned me against him. You were the one who wanted to kick him from his own band, you not me.  
I'm merely making a choice now and I choose him over you. Which is something I should have done long ago. You're out Paul, no matter what you say in your defence,''

''You'll regret this Freddie, I swear it,''  
''I highly doubt it, now put Brian back on the phone. I don't want to waste another moment of my time listening to you. Your words are poison,''  
Freddie heard Paul smack the horn down and footsteps wandering off. Brian returned, he could tell by the erratic pace in his step and his voice erupted on the other side. ''Did you just sack Paul?''

''I did,''  
''Seriously?''  
''I can't tell whether you're impressed with me or angry, darling,''  
''I'm not angry, only surprised I guess. I didn't think you would do anything that drastic, not out of the blue like that,''  
''Well desperate times call for desperate measures, dear. I want Roger back and if Paul has to be sacrificed in order for that to happen I'm willing to do that. I made a choice, I took the right turn as you told me to do,''

Brian scoffed. ''Right, because you always listen to me,''  
''Actually, I do, I just don't always do what you advice me to do. But I do listen to you, more than you know, honestly,''  
''I'm pleased to hear it. Now go and tell Roger about discarding Paul and we may be able to release you faster than I anticipated,''  
''I will, thank you Bri for everything,''  
''You're welcome, call us when you two have resolved this,''  
''Will do, tell Deaky I said hello all right?''  
''I will, goodbye Fred,''  
''Bye Bri,''

Freddie laid the telephone back on the receiver and took a deep breath. He lit a fag mostly to clear his mind.  
He was quite proud of himself for choosing Roger over Paul and yet he was a bit conflicted about how to tell Roger about it. Roger had been jealous of the idea of Freddie and Paul together. What was he to make of that? Roger surely wasn't interested in him, was he?  
But why else would he be so incredibly furious to the very concept of him shagging Paul? No, there was definitely more to this story. But Freddie was a bit apprehensive about discovering what it meant.  
And at the same time incredibly curious.

He had hopelessly longed for Roger for so long that even the tiniest ray of hope was unnerving as well as uplifting. Hope was dangerous. It created false illusions and pictures that were not real, like a mirage luring people closer into the desert.  
Still, Freddie clung to that shard of hope for dear life, pathetic as it may have been.

When he had smoked his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray he rose to his feet, deciding to find Roger and tell him the good news.  
But no matter where he looked, Roger was nowhere to be found. He wasn't in his bedroom, nor in his precious conservatory.  
The kitchen was vacant and the bathroom was unused. ''Roger! Where the fuck are you hiding?!'' he called out, shouting louder than he wanted to.  
He was feeling panic spread throughout his chest. What if something had happened to him? He could have passed out from the heat somewhere. But then Freddie would be able to find him and he had come up empty-handed for a while now.  
''Roger! Come on just answer me. I'm getting rightfully worried now! Please?''

After another dreadful silence, Freddie gave up. Clearly, Roger didn't want to be found, wherever he was hiding. He couldn't sense him, which was slightly alarming but then again, Roger could occasionally shut himself off when he was truly pissed off.  
That didn't have to mean anything perilous.

Freddie stood near the stairway and gave it one more try. ''I have good news! Will you please answer me? Come on Blondie!''  
''In here,'' a muffled voice cried out.  
Freddie blinked confounded as he tried to determine where the noise was coming from. He moved toward a cupboard under the stairs and placed his ear against the wooden door. He gave the door a few firm knocks. ''Are you in there?''  
_''Yes,''_

Freddie couldn't masquerade his bemused chuckle that followed his surprise. ''What the hell are you doing in a bloody cupboard?''  
''I'm not coming out until you agree to put my song on the fucking B-side!''

Freddie let out a massive, elongated breath of air as he searched for ways to salvage this conundrum. What was it with Roger that he always had to make everything so incredibly difficult?

 

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC....._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I fired Paul. It had to be done for this story to work. 
> 
> Freddie had to choose Roger over him. And I just wanted to get rid of Paul to be honest. So I fired his horrid arse. 
> 
> I hope you liked it, don't be shy in sending me your thoughts and notes.  
> They make me happy and write better. <3


	4. Bring it back, bring it back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger seals himself into the cupboard until he will get his way. But if that is such a great plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the cupboard chapter. I've had a lot of fun writing this. I hope I got everything right and that it is how you hoped it would be. 
> 
> This is a lighter chapter and things finally get resolved. 
> 
> I think I will write one or two more chapters on this. Let me know if you want an even longer story. I can do that. I'm having a lot of fun with this one.

_Roger_.

 

 

 

Yes, locking yourself in a cupboard until you got your way could be considered incredibly childish, petty and not something you do over the age of eight or ten in some extreme cases. And yet Roger had done just that. Fantastic job, you blithering lunatic, he scolded himself as he got familiar with his new surroundings.  
He hadn't exactly thought it through properly, no it had been the building anger in his chest and the fact that he couldn't hit on his drum-kit that made him lose his mind and finally crack.  
Talking about Paul shagging Freddie hadn't exactly helped his mood either. He was beyond furious and anxious to do something _irrational_. Something he would positively regret later. Yes, that sounded like a good plan, in theory.  
So the first thing he did was look for a big bottle of alcohol. Unfortunately, Brian had apparently taken those from the cabinet before they left, leaving him with nothing to drink but a bloody lager. Lager. Roger had never truly been fond of the taste.

But still, Roger had taken a few bottles into the cupboard with him, locked the door behind him and began his form of a strike. A strike, as if he was posing as someone from a labour party protesting for better wages.  
It sounded bloody ironic considering that he had never had a _''real''_ job in his life.  
Selling clothes with Freddie at the market hadn't been one hundred per cent legal and after that, he had become a rockstar. Contrary to Freddie, who had actually worked his arse off hauling luggage in and out of planes at London Heathrow for a while, Roger was a rather pampered prince.

He had briefly studied to be a dentist but in hindsight, he laughed at the idea of himself standing hunched over peoples mouths. The concept of it was completely ludicrous. Roger wouldn't have made a very good dentist.  
He would probably be completely inappropriate and ask his patients out on dates and get himself fired all the time.  
At least at his current _''day job''_ he could do whatever he wanted, say whatever he liked without the risk of anyone sacking him. Roger loved his profession, creating music out of thin air and perfecting it until his liking was everything he had ever wanted from his life. It was a boyhood dream come true in every way.  
And he still felt that his song was good enough to go on the B-side to Freddie's treasured Rhapsody.  
And therefore he was going to fight for it, armed to the teeth by his new form of protest.

Or his new levels of preposterous insanity, that was how Brian would probably label it. Another one of Roger Meddows Taylor's infamous temper tantrums that never led to anything good. Oh if _professor_ Brian May, the king of rationality could only see him now.  
He would never let him forget about this and tease him with it until the end of his days. Deaky would mock him for this too, at the moments he would least expect it. He was a really sarcastic twat sometimes.

Freddie would give him what he wanted, eventually. He always did so it was only a matter of time. He was an enabler at heart. Surely he would debate his choices, oppose him which would lead to a squabble but in the end, Roger would get whatever he liked from Freddie.  
Freddie couldn't bear it to bicker with Roger, let alone to suffer through the aftermath of their third world war by himself.  
He was a certified peacekeeper, not a devious destroyer.

Locking himself in this stuffy, mouldy cupboard had been Roger's last resort. His final plan of action before he would go rightly insane. He was very close to caving too, although he would never admit it to Freddie.

He was just sick of feeling like this. Tired of being so separated from Freddie. Isolated and alone.  
He had to do something drastic, hence his current location.  
Although he was half convinced that Freddie would laugh in his face when he found out what he had done.

The cupboard under the stairs was not only stifling, but it was also incredibly narrow and there wasn't any way to get comfortable.  
Sitting on the floor hurt his arse and there were massive spiders dangling from webs in every corner of it. A few empty shelves decorated the top corner and Roger could see the dust creeping over their edges. The entire place smelled of mildew and mothballs. The air stung in his eyes. Roger had forgotten to remove his contacts and now deeply regretted that.  
He wiped his weary eyes and resisted the urge not to scream.  
Sighing dramatically, he wondered why he couldn't have been more patient for once in his life?  
Freddie had been very close to burying the hatchet too, he could tell. So why did he have to resort to something so drastically immature and yet incredibly uncomfortable?

Growing up he had played hide and seek numerous times with his little sister Clare, it was by far their favourite game.  
Yet he often hid himself a little too well for her liking.  
Under the bed, in an old cabinet in the attic, things like that. It drove her mad.  
And every now and then he would hide in their cupboard under the stairs, which was probably why his instinct had told him to climb into this one.  
Only now Clare wouldn't come looking for him.  
He surely hoped that Freddie would else he would be forced to forfeit his pitiful protest before it had even properly begun.

Eventually, after the first bottle of lager had been emptied, he finally heard Freddie wander around aimlessly, searching and shouting for him. He could tell it was late in the evening and the tiny light bulb illuminated very little of the cramped space around him. Roger had never been overly fond of the dark and felt an old hint of anxiety creep over his spine.

Roger heard Freddie shouting something about having good news and then finishing his sentence by using his most beloved nickname for Roger: Blondie.  
Roger was strangely attached to that one.  
It always sounded so endearing when Freddie called him that. He liked Rog, darling, dearie, love, and sweetheart but Blondie, well Blondie was special. Even if Roger had no clue why he was so particularly fond of it. It just sounded sweet, he guessed.  
''In here!'' he cried out from behind the door.

He heard Freddie laugh indistinctly on the other side. He suddenly knocked insistently hard onto the shabby wood, scaring the living shit out of Roger. ''Are you in there?''  
''Yes,'' he muttered gleefully, blushing at his own insanity.

Freddie was chuckling again, more heartedly now like he couldn't believe that Roger would be this petty. ''What the hell are you doing in a bloody cupboard?''  
''I'm not coming out until you agree to put my song on the fucking B-side!'' Roger threatened woefully.

He heard Freddie sigh deeply and felt pleased that he apparently still had the power to surprise Freddie and throw him for a loop. He knew that this was the time to press forward and give Fred a little nudge in his arse. ''Well? Will you do that for me?''

''Rog, this is utterly ridiculous, you do realize that don't you? Even for you,''

Oh yes, he did realize that very well but there was no going back now. In for a penny in for a pound like his mum always used to say. He was invested in this little game and would not surrender until he would get what he wanted. ''Why? I'm simply going on strike,''  
''In a fucking cupboard? What are you, five?''  
''Hey all is fair in love and war, Fred,''  
''I agree but Rog, it's going to be undoubtedly hot in there. Are you seriously going to sleep there all night?''

Oh, it was hotter than the Sahara and incredibly constraining and the thought that Roger would have to sleep sitting up didn't exactly entice him. And he really had to pee. It was probably a good thing he brought the bottles of lager in there with him, he thought grim. He was the most miserable human being alive and wanted to drown himself in self-pity.  
''It is rather balmy in here yes and my head is spinning, so the sooner you agree to this, the sooner I can get out of his sweatbox and go to bed!'' Roger negotiated.

''That is incredibly manipulative, dear. Even for you,''  
''I no longer have the will to care about that Fred. Seriously, it's only a song! While you may find it silly it actually means a lot to me. I had hoped, seeing how you're my dearest friend, that therefore it would mean a lot to you as well,'' Roger said cunningly. He didn't want to be like this but he also didn't want to stay in there for the night.

''Wow you're dialling the manipulation up another notch I see,''  
''Desperate times Fred,'' Roger shrugged, his fingers darting over the package of cigarettes in his pocket. He truly wanted to light a much-needed fag but there was barely any air coming into the cramped space and he wasn't looking forward to living inside of a chimney. He wasn't bloody Santa Clause after all. Although he would fancy some grazing reindeer in his garden at some point. Brian could tell him how to look after them.  
So there was no smoking for him either, to prolong his misery of being trapped inside the stupid closet. He should have never gone in there in the first place. If Freddie called his bluff he could let him rot in there for days if he truly wanted to be a royal bitch about it.  
Roger really hoped that he wouldn't. He needed food and water to sustain himself.

He heard a small thud against the other side of the door. Freddie had probably sunk to the floor. ''So tell me why it means so much to you,''  
''What? I'm in love with my car?''  
''Yes, tell me. I'm listening,''  
Roger sniggered sarcastically. ''Oh so now you want to know,''  
''Don't be such a bitch Rog, I'm extending an olive branch here, fucking take it,'' Freddie said harshly. ''Just tell me what it is about. I want to hear it,''  
There was such sincerity in his voice that Roger finally felt compelled to elaborate and tell the story he had wanted to tell him ever since he wrote 'I'm in love with my car.'

Roger swallowed thickly and mustered all of his courage to tell the story. ''Well, when Clare and I were growing up our parents fought a lot you know, I suppose I told you that before.  
We were all just incredibly miserable living in that house with the four of us. There was always tension lingering around, someone bickering at someone. It was quite hard. A part of me was so fucking relieved when they finally got divorced and we were rid of that toxic atmosphere.  
My dad had a vintage red Vauxhall that we went on holidays in and surprisingly enough, we had some of our best family time when we were all in that car, just the four of us.  
There was no shouting, no arguing, just the road and our dad playing car and license plate games with us. When he wasn't so stressed by his work he was actually quite a fun, happy man. On holidays we saw a whole other side of our father. I could almost love him.  
Anyway, the first one who saw the coastline of Dover got a present. I always won even with my crappy eyesight but shared the sweets I got with Clare. I don't know why but in that car we were happy, united. A real family.  
That car resembles good memories to me, the only ones of my childhood I want to remember. I loved that car to bits.  
I cried like a baby the day my father told me that he had to get rid of it. It felt like someone was taking off with my only good childhood memories. It was that day when I wrote _'I'm in love with my car,_ ' and it would mean the world to me if you would accept it on the B-side.  
It's not a metaphor for me wanting to shag a car, it's a metaphor about the happiest times of my childhood combined into a musical tribute,''

Freddie stayed silent for a while and Roger heard a lighter flick and the hint of smoke reached his nostrils. Christ, he was craving for a fag. His fingers were twiddling around aimlessly without one.  
''Why did you never tell me that, love?''

Roger shrugged. ''I don't know. I never like to talk much about my childhood nor my father. Most of the memories aren't very good. I rather forget about them.  
But that car was my happy place, the one place where I could be myself, when I was truly pleased with my life and when I wasn't constantly afraid of getting into another fight with him. He was hard on me, Fred,''

''I know my love, and I'm so sorry you had to suffer through that. He never hit you did he?''

Roger shook his head, before realizing that Freddie couldn't see him. ''No, but not all abuse is physical, unfortunately.  
After the divorce, he became much more mellow to Clare and I. A bit nicer. I think it was a relief for him not to have to deal with my mum and struggle through their arguments every day. The contact is still a bit strained though. I was glad I lived with mum and not with him,''

''I understand, I mean I love my parents but we are not exactly close either. They gave me away and I hardly saw them growing up,''

That still infuriated Roger, that Freddie's parents had just thrown him to a boarding school when he was seven and threw away the key. As if there was anything wrong with him.  
Roger's parents may have had their flaws but at least they never tossed him aside because he was too wild and wouldn't listen. Freddie hadn't been able to give his little sister a piggyback ride like Roger had done with Clare. He had barely known Kashmira due to the age difference and the fact that he hadn't been around when she was growing up.  
At least Roger had Clare. They were a united front against their parents. He wouldn't have been able to live through all that constant stress without her. They knew each other really well, just from a glance they spoke to one another. Freddie and Kash would be almost strangers, Roger realized.  
''They shouldn't have done that. I can't understand how they did that to you,''

''Oh you mustn't blame them, darling. It's a different culture and I was a badly behaved brat. They did what every proper Parsi parent would have done at that time. And don't forget that my father was a well-respected member of the community. A high ranking man of stature. He had hoped that boarding school would get me in line, unfortunately for him, it achieved quite the opposite,''

''Good, serves him right for throwing you out like that. I'm glad it never changed you, Fred. You're perfect just the way you are,''  
He heard Freddie laugh appreciatively. ''Thank you Blondie but I'm hardly perfect,''  
''Who cares, perfect is bloody _dull_ anyway,''

''Okay,'' Freddie stated after another prolonged silence.  
''Okay what?''  
''I'll give you the B-side for your song. I should think you've earned it,''  
Roger felt his heart leap up in his chest. He was shocked that Freddie was giving in so quickly. But he guessed that Freddie was sick of their fighting too and finally understood why it was so valuable to him. ''You-you will? Really?''

''Yes, really. I only have one condition though,''  
''I'm listening,''  
''That you sing the entire song yourself, start to finish. It's your song and you sing it far more beautiful and raw than I ever can. So do we have a deal?''  
Roger felt affection and the need to cover Freddie in hugs and kisses course through his system. ''Deal,''

''Fantastic, but please get out of there now, dear. I don't want you in that awful sweatbox any longer than is absolutely necessary,''  
Roger didn't need to be told twice. He rose to his feet, unlocked the door and nearly leapt out. Freddie was standing in front of him looking slightly bemused and tears shone in his eyes. He opened his arms invitingly, smiling warmly. ''C'me here, _Blondie_ ,''  
Roger's feet moved the second he saw those arms open and nearly knocked the air out of Freddie by collapsing against him, embracing him harder than he ever had since he had known him. Freddie's face was damp against his neck and Roger knew he was sobbing. Roger was too, judging from the stains he left on Freddie's shirt. ''I'm sorry Rog, I'm-''

Roger shook his head against Freddie's soft hair. ''No, you don't need to say anything. It's done now. We both said things we wish we could take back. It's forgotten, Fred,''  
''It's not. I said some awful things to you. I need you to know that I didn't mean them,''  
''Of course, I know that,''

Freddie pulled back and clasped onto Roger's cheeks with both his warm hands, forcing Roger to meet his dark, haunting eyes.  
There was more than just sheer regret residing there. Something Roger couldn't quite place. ''No you're not _hearing_ me. Darling, I said that your song wasn't good enough for Queen. That it was shit and that I couldn't believe someone as original as you had come up with something so mediocre. I shouldn't have said that. And I want you to let me apologize to you for it. Words are _permanent_ , sweetheart and I know you have a long memory.  
It's not simply forgotten, not to you. I need you to hear that I will never-nor have I ever-questioned your talent. You're an amazing writer and you sing like a bloody nightingale. You reach notes that I can't sing.  
You're one of the most talented musicians I know and I value every one of your ideas.  
And I'm _so_ _sorry_ I made you doubt yourself and feel like complete shit for a week. I consider you to be the best bloody drummer in the world and I need you to hear that. To feel that I'm not casting you aside. I don't know why I said all those awful things, I didn't even mean most of them. It was like someone else was speaking through me, trying to tear us apart. Looking back I know that wee birdie had an actual name that started with a P,''

''You mean Paul? Well, that surely wouldn't shock me if he had put those evil notions in your mind,''  
Freddie's eyes were twinkling now. ''I fired him, darling. That was the good news I wanted to tell you about,''  
Roger didn't believe it. He must have misheard Freddie. This could not be the real life, this had to be a fantasy. ''No way, I don't believe it,''

Freddie giggled heartedly. ''Oh believe it, sweetheart. I really did,''  
''Why, I mean on what grounds?''  
_''Villainy,''_ Freddie winked, mimicking Roger's words back at him.

Roger was still questioning it, he wanted to believe it but it seemed so surreal. ''I don't believe this, I mean I want to but it almost beggars believe,''  
''Well you can give Bri a ring if you don't believe me, I fired him over the phone about an hour ago. He did not take it well,''  
''But what suddenly changed?'' Roger inquired. Freddie stood so close to him now that he could literally feel his breath land on his lips. It made him dizzy and he had a strange longing to lean in and kiss Freddie, just because he wanted to.  
Because he could. Freddie would probably let him too. Maybe. If Roger was truly lucky. But Roger still lacked the nerve to take that step, still not eager to mess things up even further between them after they had just attempted to mend it.

Freddie's hands were scorching torches against Roger's cheeks. He placed a light peck to Roger's clammy forehead that made his stomach pool with staggering warmth. ''I decided that I trust your judgement more than I trust my own. If you say he's trying to divide us I believe you. Your word is good enough for me.  
I know I can be naive with people I call my friends and well, I asked Brian about it. How he felt towards Paul and he said that you all loathe and mistrust him. I don't want my friends to be unhappy with someone who's constantly around them so I fired him immediately. I couldn't afford to lose you over him, Rog.  
He's not worth it.  
Last week I got a taste of what my life would be like without you in it and I can't say that I was very fond of it. In fact, I've never been this lonely and miserable. I need you to feel happy, complete. Without you, it's all meaningless to me. I don't know who I am without you and I don't ever want to find out either,''

Roger felt his lip tremble and more sodding tears rolling down his cheeks. God, what was the matter with him? He seldom ever cried and now he was wailing like a girl. It must have been the stress of the last week coming back to claim its toll on him. Or perhaps it was the fact that Freddie said all those sweet words to him and that he actually got rid of that poisonous rat for him.  
He had said that he trusted Roger's judgement. That was incredibly valuable to him.  
That he couldn't imagine his life without Roger in it. Roger wanted to melt into a puddle of tears when Freddie had said that. Wanted to hold him, tell him how much he loved him.  
That he felt the same and that he would never let Freddie go. But unfortunately, someone had reached into his throat and stole his voice from him. He suspected it was that sneaky bitch Paul, coming back for one final taste of revenge.

He couldn't speak, but Freddie didn't need him to. He simply pulled him in his arms once again and held him until neither one of them had any tears left to shed. He wasn't sure how long they stood there but it hardly mattered. They clung to each other, starved for the feeling of pure completeness they had missed for so long.  
Roger felt alive again, for the first time in a week. He could finally breathe the free air again without everything hurting him, constraining him.  
He was home. _Finally_.  
Freddie was with him, loved him and that was all he had ever needed to feel human.

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC......._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So was it any good? At least they made up. Finally. I was so ready for that. 
> 
> Also about Roger's father, I'm not inclining that he was abusive in real life. I saw Roger hint at that in an interview but I wasn't there so I'm mostly making this up. I'm not accusing him of anything. It just worked for the story. 
> 
> I hope it met your expectations. Let me know.  
> Thank you for reading. <333


	5. Don't take it away from me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie and Roger made up and decide to celebrate with a little drink, but if that was such a great plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing how it's Valentine's day, I'm going on the romantic tour a little bit.

_Freddie._

 

 

 

 

Standing there in the hall with Roger safely locked into his arms, Freddie forgot all knowledge of the very concept of time. It no longer existed. Neither did space, the house around them, the indistinct screeching of an owl nearby, it all faded into the back of his mind. It was unimportant.  
All Freddie felt all that engulfed him was all of Roger. The familiarity of his slightly sweet cologne blended in with the smell of cigarettes that was so typically Roger that it was nearly too much for him to bear.  
It was nearly a religious experience, healing the both of them from their epic battle, nursing the scars and gently kissing them away. It was almost an out of body experience and Freddie saw himself floating up and looking down on the sight of him and Roger, smiling fondly at their own reunion.

Roger's arms were impossibly tight around him, nearly constraining but Freddie loved the sheer pressure of it. The fact that Roger actually voluntarily  _wanted_ to hug him like this meant everything to him.  
Both of them were sobbing like a bunch of pitiful children who had lost their favourite toys but neither of them cared.  
They clung to each other for dear life, the lack of contact from last week had wrecked them both.  
Freddie was completely knackered and wanted to lay Roger down in his bed, curl up in his arms and sleep for a year. All the negative energy was leaving him in erratic, pulsating waves and was now replaced with positivity again.  
A sense of crystalized hope he had lacked for the past week. He felt life stir inside of him once more.  
The actual will to live contrary to wanting to hang himself constantly for the last week.

He felt glad that he had given in to Roger, a part of him knowing damn well that eventually, he would have given Roger whatever he wanted. He had never been good at denying Roger anything he asked for.  
He would literally hang the moon for him if he asked him to. Well if Brian would build him a perfectly good spaceship or a rocket or whatever those things were called.

He smiled at the thought of himself as an astronaut, it was utterly preposterous. He was a singer and that was all he had ever wanted to be. They should truly call Brian, he recalled. He would be pleased to hear that they could let them out of their prison and come home.  
But it was so late and their room had already been paid for a night so he saw little point in telling them to come back in the middle of the night. Also, if he was perfectly honest with himself he wanted to stay home alone with Roger for a bit, just them, no distractions from their friends.

He still had to face Paul when he came in to pick up his stuff and he wasn't exactly looking forward to it. But his friends had his back and they all wanted him gone so he would be fine. Freddie had just never liked to be cruel to people, to have to fire them. It wasn't in his nature. He wanted everyone around him to be happy and smiling all the time.  
He liked to see himself as a bringer of joy, a messenger of happiness, hence the name Mercury. He was the messenger of the Gods. Yes, he also brought the souls of dead people into the underworld but Freddie preferred to let that part out of his job description.  
Most people hardly knew who Mercury ( or Hermes, his Greek counterpart ) actually was, so no one cared.

Roger was stirring in his arms and Freddie released his hold a bit. ''I have to piss,'' Roger explained woefully, looking nearly reluctant that he had to let go of Freddie. ''Fuck, I would kill for a big drink right now but the sodding _professor_ took off with all the real alcohol and left us here with lager. That lanky conniving little bitch,''

''No he didn't,'' Freddie informed him, smirking wide.  
''What?''  
''He left us one bottle of Vodka that I found earlier. I hid it in my room for emergencies,''  
Roger creased a critical eyebrow up at him. ''Emergencies?''  
''Fine, it was my leverage, all right? To get you to talk to me if you continued to stay angry at me. You had your cupboard-like weaponry and I had mine, I suppose,''  
Roger looked impressed, always one to appreciate a little scheme. ''Bloody hell, that was a great call, you know,''

Freddie grinned content. ''Thank you,''  
''So why don't you go and get it while I go to the loo and we can drink it together?''  
''Sounds good,'' Freddie proclaimed cheerfully. No that didn't sound good, it sounded amazing. And also a little risky. No, in fact, not a little bit of a risk, it sounded like a massive one that could backfire in his face if he wasn't careful.  
Getting drunk with Roger was something he had done countless times before but Freddie wasn't fully assured that he would be able to contain himself today.  
He had been so neglected from Roger's affections that just holding him for a moment was hardly enough. He needed more, he would take whatever Roger would give him tonight.  
But alcohol tended to loosen his tongue, made him say stupid shit that he wouldn't be able to take back in the morning. And Roger seldom forgot a thing, even while positively drunk out of his mind.

As Roger turned to leave, Freddie took hold of his arm. ''Wait, darling, come here a moment,''  
Roger waited but ogled him with a questioning glare, clearly not understanding what the problem was. ''You're all covered in dust and spiderwebs,'' Freddie explained, brushing grey shit off Roger's arms, his top and the small of his back. ''There, now you're decent,''  
''I could have died of a fungal infection if you had let me sit in there all night,''  
''Ah I see that my lovely hysterical queen is back in the building, oh how I have missed her,'' Freddie smiled fondly, squeezing Roger's warm cheek lovingly.  
''Would you have me any other way?''  
''Never, you're precisely dramatic enough, dear. Without it what would you be? Just some ordinary drummer. No Blondie, you are a fucking Queen,''

Roger suddenly leaned in and kissed Freddie's temple, completely out of the blue, startling him a bit. ''Well I did learn from the best, you numpty,''  
''Yes, that Brian can be a massive drama queen when he's all worked up,''  
Roger rolled his eyes at him, a hint of his old mischievous smirk dancing on his lush lips. ''Hilarious, Fred. Now get the Vodka, I'm fucking bursting. Might piss on the floor like a sodding two-year-old if I don't go now,''

As Roger snuck into the toilet, Freddie went upstairs to retrieve the Vodka from its secret hiding place. Back down he found Roger in the conservatory, because where else would he be the most comfortable? Freddie was half convinced that Roger would want to get married in one if they let him.  
He was completely addicted to them.  
It had always been rather strange to Freddie, he saw a conservatory as a very old-fashioned room.  
One that was usually littered with ugly antiques and hideous armchairs. And yet Roger, who was quite contemporary and was obsessed with staying in style and as hip as possible, loved them.  
It was a wonderful contradiction that defined the many layers and aspects of Roger Meddows Taylor. Even though Freddie knew Roger better than anyone, he still constantly managed to surprise him, he was never dull and truly one of a kind.  
Freddie realized that he had never asked Roger why he was so attached and infatuated with conservatories, perhaps he should. One day.

Roger sat on the burgundy sofa for once, two Whiskey glasses standing in front of him and a cigarette tugged between his fingers. ''Couldn't smoke in there, not enough ventilation, I would have choked myself to death,''  
''I'm shocked you managed to survive that for a whole hour. You really hadn't thought it through when you stepped in there did you?''  
''Not even for one second no,''  
''You're always so impossibly impulsive,''  
''I thought you loved that about me?''  
''Usually, I do, but seriously Rog. Your devious little protest wasn't without risk,''

Roger rolled his eyes at him, ogling the Vodka eagerly. ''Stop fussing over me, I'm fine. You're starting to sound like Brian and god knows I don't need two of you,''  
''You're fine because you got out in time but-''  
Roger brushed Freddie's shoulder, quite hard, silencing him instantly. ''Hey stop it. Look at me,'' Freddie did. ''There is nothing wrong with me all right? I'm _great_ , now pour me that drink because I am rather thirsty,''  
Freddie hesitated, the hand that held the bottle hovering apprehensively over Roger's empty glass. ''Did you drink some water yet? Before I came down?''

''Yes doctor May, my god Fred, I'm fine! I'm not some dimwitted child. I do know that I need to drink water during a warm summer. I was a medical student, Fred. I dissected frogs! Just because I'm blond doesn't mean I'm automatically stupid,''  
''Of course, you aren't stupid, I would never suggest that, darling. But I can still worry about you can't I? I mean, we kissed and made up so I like to believe I have earned that right back but correct me if I'm mistaken,''  
''No, you have. I'm over it,'' Roger reassured him, taking a big sip of his drink. He looked much more mellow and at ease, resting his head against the sofa, looking content. ''Hey Fred?''  
''Yes Roger,''  
''Can you sing something for me? I've missed hearing you sing. The last thing I heard was you proclaiming that you never wanted to be born at all and that wasn't something I like to remember,''

That request came a bit out of the blue for Freddie but he loved Roger for asking. He had longed to sing for him again, to sing with him. To joke around like they used to do. ''Of course, love. Actually, I've written a new song that I've been meaning to play for you and the lads. But I need my guitar for it and I'm far too lazy and spent to get up,''  
Roger veered up, his eyes gleaming with excitation. ''I can get it, it's in your room right?''  
''Yes, standing behind the door,''  
Roger stubbed his cigarette out into the ashtray and stumbled loudly up the stairs. Something was bothering Freddie but he couldn't pinpoint what it was yet. The Vodka was dulling his senses, clouded his mind. Something was wrong. It was bursting off Roger in waves that threatened to drown him.

When Roger returned, Freddie felt it radiating off him and his heart nearly fell out of his chest when he saw what Roger held in his hands.  
Not only his guitar but also his secret sketchbook. _Oh, holy fuck!_ Freddie had left it laying on his bed and forgotten to hide it back under his bed.  
Freddie was a dead man. There was no way out of this one.  
Not even Brian could come up with a clever excuse to salvage this sticky situation.  
Roger held it open at the page that was most precious to Freddie, the one with the portrait of Roger that he was most proud of. There was so much air in that one, it nearly seemed to be alive. The entire sketch breathed with one hundred per cent pure Roger.

In the far left corner underneath it, Freddie had pencilled in a couple of tiny words that he was truly hoping Roger had looked over. Unfortunately for him, Roger's keen eyes seldom missed a detail. Which was why he was such an excellent musician.  
Roger's fingers clenched fiercely around the paper and Freddie noticed his hands were trembling and that he was looking mildly embarrassed. ''What in the name of all that's good and holy is this?''

Freddie desperately tried to keep his facial expressions as neutral and unfazed as he could but a part of him knew that Roger would see right through it. ''It's my sketchbook Rog, surely you've seen it before haven't you?''  
''Yes, I've seen you holding it and scribbling in it but you never actually shown any of us what you were creating. And now I know why,''  
''Why are you getting so upset, darling?''  
Roger's cheeks were crimson, he nearly looked bashful, which was odd for someone as confident as him. ''There's only bloody portraits of _me_ in here Freddie! Why?''

Freddie swallowed as he searched for a manoeuvre out of this maze. ''Well I hate to state the obvious, love because I should think that your ego is big enough as it is, but you are by far, the most attractive member of Queen. Why would I sketch Brian? All those mountains of hair are a menace that will take forever and Deaky would be a tad too easy, so you were the only choice for me. And the most appealing one,''

Roger's fingers crinkled the paper furiously, his eyes unbelieving and harsh. ''Don't lie to me. Not after...last week. Cut the crap and tell me what this is all about. Be honest with me for once. Why did you write _that_ underneath it?''

Freddie swore under his breath, of course, Roger had seen it. Luck wasn't on his side at the moment. ''It's the name of my latest song, I pencilled it in so I wouldn't forget it. Your portrait was closest by so-''  
Roger waved that away dismissively. ''Oh piss off! I do believe that I just told you not to fucking lie to me. You've never forgotten the name of a song. You rarely forget a thing, Fred. Bloody hell, just tell me what this is all about. Please! Why would you write _'love of my life,'_ under my face? Tell me!''

 _Because it's true, he thought._  He couldn't say it, his own insecurity taking ahold of him, resting on his chest like a thousand pound anvil. He felt his old anxiety rising up in his chest and before he could control it he was hyperventilating. His heart hammered far too quickly and he briefly saw stars. He lost his balance as the world was spinning around him. ''I can't-''  
Thankfully, Roger noticed his distress and caught him just before he tumbled over and smacked his head on the Persian rug. ''I got you, calm down. It's all right. Breathe with me, Fred. One, two, three. In and out. Good. Now I need you to look at me, please,''

Freddie did, although he really wished he hadn't. He knew that Roger's medical training was taking ahold of him.  
But there was more than mere concern in Roger's expressions, something that Freddie couldn't quite place and sent imminent chills over his spine. ''All right, that's good. Keep breathing with me, in and out. That's better. You don't need to do anything you don't want to do-all right? You don't have to answer my questions, you know,''

When Freddie still kept on panicking and breathing like a madman, Roger told him to put his head between his legs. He rubbed his back for him and shushed him like only he could calm Freddie when everything became too much for him to bear. Roger was a master in it.  
Freddie loved him with every fibre of his being.

And suddenly he realized that Roger would already know what the portrait and the line underneath it would mean. He was exceedingly clever and would have connected the dots by now.  
Freddie wouldn't need to explain anything, not truly. Roger knew. 

And right on cue, his drummer asked tentatively, ''How long?''  
Freddie shrugged hopelessly, sighing defeated. He brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip of liquid courage. ''I can't remember the exact date of when we met,''  
Roger's eyes widened in amazement. ''Ever since the start then?''  
''Yes, ever since the first time I shook your hand and felt alive for the first time in my entire life,''

Roger cupped his cheek and forced Freddie to look at him, his blue eyes laced with warmth and a hint of curiosity. ''Why did you never tell me?''  
''How could I? You were quite literally the _least_ gay man I had ever met. What sort of chance would I have? I reckoned that I had better chances of coming onto Brian than I did coming onto you.  
Why would I tell you and risk ruining all we have? I couldn't lose you, _Blondie_. I would have rather spent a lifetime being your best friend than admit to loving you and wrecking our relationship in the process. I couldn't take that chance. Nothing is worth losing you, ever,''

Roger shook his head in disbelief. ''You're a bloody fool, Fred, if you think that there is anything you can ever do to lose me. I'm here to stay. No matter what happens, you understand? Nothing will come between us, not a fucking car song, nor this. You're stuck with me for as long as you live. I promise,''

Freddie placed his glass down on the coffee table and pulled Roger into another desperate hug. He clung to him for dear life. But right when he started to feel a little better, he could sense that Roger was somewhat less comfortable. He reluctantly interrupted their embrace to look at him. ''What's wrong?''  
Roger drank the entire content of his glass in one massive sip, spilling some over his chin and choking a bit. ''I'm not so sure that I don't also fancy men, Fred,''  
Freddie's jaw dropped. ''I'm sorry what?''  
''Last night, at the pub. I didn't hate it when that bloke kissed me. Well, I would have preferred it if he had actually asked me first but I didn't feel repulsed by it. And now I'm questioning everything I thought knew about myself. Maybe I do like men too, I don't know. Seems like I don't know _anything_ anymore,''

Freddie knew that Roger wasn't telling him the whole truth, he could tell he was keeping something vital from him. He refilled Roger's glass and handed it back to him. ''What are you hiding?''  
Roger shrugged evasively. ''Nothing you bloody lunatic, I just told you that I might be-bisexual-and still you ask me what I'm hiding?''  
''Because I know you and you are clearly not telling me something quite crucial, darling,''

''Can you just play me your new song? Please? I want to hear it so bad,'' Roger begged, his irresistible long eyelashes seducing him as he batted them at him rather shamelessly. Was Roger flirting with him? Or did he do this to get his way?  
The Vodka started to kick in and Freddie questioned everything. Should he do this? A part of him thought this wasn't the right time and that revealing this would make him feel completely naked, but another hoped that when Roger heard it he might be more eager to expose whatever he was lying about.

''Will you tell me what you're hiding when I finish singing then?''  
''I will, scout's honour,''

Freddie was giving in, even if he didn't want to. Roger was just too big-eyed and darling to say no to. That devious little shit always knew how to get his way with Freddie. All he had to do was exploit Freddie's love for him to the maximum.  
And now that Roger knew how Freddie felt about him, that would probably only increase. He hadn't really thought that part through when he confessed the truth to Roger.  
Nonetheless, he picked up his guitar and laid it in his arms.  
His fingers anxiously fiddled with a string, trying to mend an invisible problem. He was stalling. He felt backed into a corner with no escape route.

Roger was already onto his third glass when Freddie finally mustered all his courage and started to sing. His heart roaming around in his chest like a crazed hurricane with each word that left his lips. His fingers quivered on the strings.   
_''Love of my life, you've hurt me. You've broken my heart and now you leave me. Love of my life can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me because you don't know. What it means to me._  
_Love of my life, don't leave me. You've stolen my love, you now desert me. Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me because you don't know, what it means to me._  
_You will remember when this is blown over. Everything's all by the way. When I grow older, I will be there by your side to remind you, how I still love you. I still love you._  
_I still love you._  
_Oh, hurry back, hurry back. Don't take it away from me because you don't know, what it means to me. Love of my life. Love of my life. Ooh,''_

Freddie pursed his lips together and looked back up at Roger. He hadn't dared to look at him during his lines, feeling far too afraid of what he might see in his stormy blues. Anxious to ruin his concentration.  
Freddie had never felt this bare and vulnerable after singing a song to Roger. His heart was literally lying on the table now, open and exposed. There were no more secrets, no more masks. Roger saw all of him.  
Freddie had given him a peek into his heart, revealing his best-preserved dreams and aspirations. His deepest desires. 

And Roger was crying.  
Silent tears streaming over his chiselled cheeks. He was so _beautiful_ like this, watching Roger come undone was a sight Freddie could never get enough of.  
He was at a complete loss for words, that much was painfully evident.  
Freddie placed his hands on Roger's cheeks, wiping his tears away with his thumbs and kissed the salty skin lightly. ''Oh, my sweet darling. I thought I'd lost you last week. The song sort of came to me. You know, I do my best work when I'm really upset. Did you like it?''

Roger nodded fervently, placing his soft hands on Freddie's, lacing their fingers together. He sniffled and let out a huge, shaky breath. He drank the last sip of his drink and sighed deeply.  
Then he suddenly leaned in and kissed Freddie hard. Completely out of the blue and right on the lips...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC......_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah another cliffhanger? Wow I'm so mean. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked how I incorporated Love of my life, into this story. I had to use it, seeing how it's the title of my story and I feel that it fitted perfectly for these two.  
> And thanks to my lovely reader PeblezQ for giving me the idea to use the sketchbook to help Roger understand how Freddie feels about him. That was a great plan and I'm super grateful for helping me out! <3


	6. Because you don't know, what it means to me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger has to face the music and contemplates why he kissed Freddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this, I wrote this entire chapter, probably the longest one I ever made and just when I was about to post it, it was gone.  
> So I had to start again, not from scratch, I saved up half of it in an email but still. I'm so frustrated about that. I tried everything to get it back and I'm sure this draft won't be half as good. Sorry about that. 
> 
> Anyway, I endured and wrote it again, but I did skip some of it and saved it for the next chapter. I hope you don't mind. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. <3

_Roger_.

 

 

 

Roger Taylor was a man who was quite infamous for his impulsiveness and rash decisions. He realized that very well, thank you very much.  
He needed an actual notebook to keep track of all the things he had done without properly thinking them through. Not that he kept score. But if he would he surely would have gone through countless of those by now. Roger had a habit of not entirely thinking things through. He just did them.  
Well no, he was selling himself short there. He did think about things before he did them sometimes, but it depended on the situation. He was just a very impatient person who could fly off the handle quite quickly.

And he absolutely couldn't stand it when he didn't get his way, that could turn him into an insufferable shit. He could be quite conniving and go quite far to get what he wanted.  
If he saw a girl he fancied, he would simply go for it, no hesitation and nothing that held him back. He considered himself a man of actions rather than words when it came to picking up women.  
He only had to look at them, give them a wink and _''accidentally''_ brush his hand over their lower backs or the curvature of their waist and he was generally in business.

Occasionally, when he got bored with the easy ones, he would try his luck with a girl that had a boyfriend who was conveniently in the bathroom and told him to piss off when he came back.   
He had gotten punched in the face a few times, by men and women. Being such a ladies man was not entirely without risk. Freddie would patch him up when that happened, nursing him without scolding him for getting himself in trouble once again.  
Brian would give him a lecture that reminded Roger of his least amusing granddad ( he didn't need that ) and John wouldn't know what to say to him, feeling all awkward when he saw blood and scrapes and so he turned to Freddie. Who made him laugh about the situation and forget about his bruises.

Right, Freddie. The object of his latest impulsive action. The man who's impossibly soft yet pliant lips had just brushed over his own before Roger shied away from him.  
The fleeting tender feeling of which still lingered on Rogers breath. Their foreheads were still in contact and Freddie's left hand lingered on the nape of his neck.  
What the hell had come over him when he had done this?  
Roger had initiated this, not Freddie. There was no one to blame for his alarming wave of irrationality and poor judgement but himself.

Feeling so overwhelmed with emotion from Freddie's _breathtaking_ song that he had acted mostly on instinct and leant in to kiss him.  
Perhaps because he felt the need to reward Freddie for being so brave for him, but a part of him couldn't deny that when their lips touched, his whole heart seemed to come _alive_ for the first time.  
The world suddenly seemed to make sense, even if rationally speaking, nothing made sense. All Roger could feel over-flooding his system was pure Freddie and Roger was hopelessly craving for more of him when their lips had left one another and eventually parted.

Roger saw the blatant uncertainty lingering behind Freddie's eyes, the fragile shadow of a doubt that resided in his ebony gemstones. They were so dark tonight, even darker than usual. Roger felt a chill go over his spine while he struggled to catch his breath.  
Freddie who so valiantly had proclaimed that Roger was the love of his life. That he had loved him since the day they met six years ago.

A revelation that flipped Roger's world upside down and made him question everything he thought he knew about their relationship. Every little detail was now carefully shoved under a telescope. All the innocent looks and touches that Roger had stupidly cast aside as Freddie being Freddie were now being examined thoroughly. No, in hindsight they hadn't been meaningless at all. Roger wondered if he hadn't known about this all along but had simply shrugged it off as some innocent flirting in order to prevent himself from getting hurt. Because deep down, he was a penniless coward who was terrified of getting his heart broken, especially by someone as precious to him as Freddie.

Freddie had far bigger balls than Roger would ever have, confessing what he did. Roger couldn't have done that if his life depended on it. He had admired Freddie's innate strength since the day he met him but it wasn't until now that he fully understood how strong Freddie actually was, deep down. How much he had to suffer through in his life, how much he had lost and how it had only made him kind, not cruel. Roger hadn't often looked up to anyone and he was not someone who idolized people but Freddie came pretty damn close.   

Roger could tell that Freddie was somewhat hesitant on what to do or say next, leaving it on Roger to break the ice.  
His lower lip was trembling ominously and insecurity was displayed all over his face.  
Roger wanted to say something coherent, something assuring but his throat was firmly sealed shut. What could he say? The world seemed to have taken a turn into the surreal.

Due to his parent's ugly divorce, he wasn't even sure if he truly  _believed_ in long-term relationships anymore. He had some severe commitment issues that he wasn't certain anyone could help him overcome. Hence the rather endless string of different girls that decorated his arms. The very idea of a relationship with one person for the rest of his life seemed limiting and utterly preposterous to him.  
If, by some miracle, he would give his heart to Freddie, would he be able to stay faithful to him and only him? Or would he become a bonafide cheater?

A part of him wanted to flee to his bedroom but he knew that he couldn't do that to Freddie, not since he had exposed himself like that to Roger. Freddie wouldn't take that well and would interpret it as a sign of rejection and his insecurity would likely lead to him lashing out and thus resulting in another argument.  
No, Roger wanted to salvage this, wanted to do the right thing for once.  
But that was so eerily foreign to him that he wasn't quite sure how to even begin.  
He had never done this before, with the girls it had been completely carefree and easy.  
Just sex and no form of emotional bonding or anything like that. However with Freddie, well Roger couldn't afford to stuff that up. Freddie was special. He deserved more from him than he had ever given those lasses.  
The agonizing silence endured and he could tell that Freddie was internally starting to freak out.

Just when he opened his mouth to speak, Freddie beat him to the punch. ''You can go if you want. No need to explain, Rog, I get it,''  
No, Freddie didn't get it. Not even a little bit. He didn't understand the profound and conflicting internal war that his head was fighting with his heart at that very moment. Battling for the right to endure. The winner would take it all, the loser left with nothing but its own self-pity.  
Roger's head was accustomed to coming out on top but the scales seemed to tip in favour of his heart in this case. In the casebook that was Freddie Mercury.

The gut-wrenching disappointment in Freddie's eyes broke Roger's heart. ''I'm _not_ leaving,'' he finally managed to blurt out after another agonizingly tense silence.  
''Yes you are, that is what you do best, darling. It's quite all right, I understand. You did something rather impulsive that you hadn't thought through and now you wish you could take it back. And you can, I'm letting you off the hook. Go and be free, pretend this never happened, it's what you excel at,'' Freddie said icily. His voice was colder than the artics. And distant. So fucking distant. All life seemed to have evaporated from his usually warm and rich voice.  
This was Freddie's self-protect mechanism that would sometimes emerge to keep him safe when he thought people might leave him due to his severe abandonment issues. Roger knew that he had seen the many facets of this mask more times than he could count.  
But it still hurt, to hear Freddie speak so coldly to him as if he couldn't care less about what had just happened. It was a ruse obviously, not real in any way, but it still felt pretty damn real to Roger.  
His heart didn't ache any less even though he knew he shouldn't take this too heavily. Freddie was only lashing out because he had fucked it up by not reassuring him that they were all right. Freddie needed that validation, he thrived on it, was starved for it.  
He wouldn't feel better until Roger told him nothing would change between them. Alas, Roger didn't want to lie to Freddie. Everything would change for them from now on.

When Roger had seen the sketchbook resting openly on Freddie's bed he really should not have picked it up and flipped through it. But he was so entranced by the portrait of himself that he had to look further, wanted to see if there were drawings of Brian, Deaky and Freddie's cats in there too.  
But no, there was only his own face staring back at him with each flip of the page.  
It had thrown Roger for a loop, brought him off balance and he hadn't been able to find it again ever since. He wasn't used to feeling this helpless and out of control.  
His legs had nearly given out on him as he had made his way back down, the notebook firmly clenched between his hands. He had seldom felt that unfocused. And then he had kissed Freddie after he had sung so beautifully to him.  
The lyrics of _'Love of my life'_ had been incredibly stunning and earthshattering. Roger couldn't believe that Freddie wrote something that emotional for him. _About him._

It was too much.  
He was overwhelmed and blown to pieces by the intensity and exhaustion of it all and couldn't think any longer. It had been a tiring week and an even longer night.  
Yes, they had made up but the complex severity of their internal war had left its toll on Roger and surely on Freddie as well. Roger wanted to lay his head in Freddie's lap as he had done countless times before and fall asleep, pretending that things were still as they were two hours ago.  
Before everything got so bloody confusing. Roger knew that Freddie was still waiting for an actual response and focused his attention back at his dishevelled friend. His best mate.

Freddie's hands rested in his lap and he was anxiously fiddling around with a button on his shirt. Roger placed his hands over them, stifling the movement. "I'm not leaving you," he said decisively. "Not now, not ever. You only caught me a bit off guard here Fred, I can't seem to think at all. And I'm so fucking sleepy from the Vodka. I wanna sleep for approximately a year,"  
Freddie was still quite withdrawn from him, even if his fingers didn't resist the touch of Roger's. "You kissed me-remember?"  
_Only too well,_ Roger thought grimly. "Yes I do, fervently,"  
"Do you regret it then, love?"

Roger shook his head immediately. "No you silly goose, not even a little bit," those words visibly relaxed Freddie and his entire rigid body went loose under Roger's watchful eyes. "However, I really can't talk about it now. Not because I don't want to but because I need some time to process this. To figure out how I feel about all this. I'm so spent that I can hardly hear myself think, I want to take a bit of time to collect my thoughts you know before we uh...continue this," _whatever this is,_ he thought.  
He felt it better to negate those words, best keep them to himself.

Freddie ogled him with a sideways glance, a hopeful glitter in his eyes. "All right, darling. Whatever you want,"  
"Right now, I would settle for going to bed," Roger futilely attempted to stifle his yawn. Freddie drank the remains of his Vodka and wiped his chin when he spilt some. "Good plan Rog, I'm absolutely knackered too. Oh, I'm so pleased that I can see Roger again tomorrow, he must have missed me dearly,"  
Roger frowned confounded, concerned that the liquor was disrupting Freddie's mind, mixing things up. "Um Fred, _I'm_ _Roger_ -remember? You must mean Brian or Deaky,"  
Freddie blushed hotly. "No, I meant Roger. You know the red cat I always play with,"  
"His name isn't Roger is it?"  
"No, he had no name so I gave him one. Everyone should have a name. Roger suited him, he's small but surprisingly feisty and he hates it when I don't give him his way. Like you, darling,"

"I'm not that petulant and I'm actually _taller_ than you Fred,"  
"Pfff hardly, you barely have two whole centimetres on me, sweetheart,"  
"I'm not little then, by that reckoning you are," Roger teased, smiling like a child in a toy store. It felt good to joke around with Freddie to be able to pretend that not everything had changed so radically in the lifespan of one night.  
''Whatever you want, love. Let's go upstairs now that I can still walk in a sort of straight line,'' Freddie chuckled. He rose to his feet and extended a hand to Roger, who took it without question. They left the guitar standing by the sofa and stumbled up the stairs together. Not entirely in a straight line but Roger hadn't expected that. The alcohol was clouding Roger's mind and had clearly taken its toll on Freddie too.

Freddie went into the bathroom first, washing up a bit and brushing his teeth while Roger sat on his bed, contemplating the events of all the things that had happened tonight. After Freddie was done, he quickly got ready for bed and halted in front of Freddie's open door. Their rooms were adjacent to one another and Freddie was displayed in his underwear, sprawled out like a lazy cat. The only thing lacking was a persistent purring sound.

He turned to his side and ogled Roger warmly as he folded the thin duvet back. ''C'me here _Blondie_ ,'' he whispered gleefully.  
And that did it. Using that nickname pulled Roger in like a Siren lured a ship onto the rocks. Besides, Freddie had the best bed in the house, even if his mattress was still slightly shitty and you could feel the springs stick in your back. Roger's was far worse.  
Paul, tricky little weasel that he was, had made certain that Freddie had the largest, most comfortable room in the entire farmhouse.  
Roger slid under the covers, grateful that the clear starry skies had brought some cool temperatures along with them, the humid air leaving the house gradually. Freddie had opened all the windows earlier that evening, letting some much-needed ventilation inside.

Roger slipped under the covers with Freddie, rolling to his side to face him, swallowing hard as he cursed himself for climbing into the bed in the first place. This had the making of a legitimate _bad_ idea written all over it. He knew that Freddie wouldn't try to seduce him, not after he had asked for some space, but still, why was he setting himself up to be tempted?  
How did this qualify as taking some distance from Freddie to think about everything? _Roger you bloody lunatic,_ he scolded himself, bristling furiously. _This is just asking for it! Use your fucking head for once!_

It wasn't the first time they had shared a bed. When Queen was still in their early days and they all lived together Roger had frequently found himself waking up in Freddie's bed after a drunken night. Freddie never complained about it, nor did he tell the others and just brushed it off as Roger ''sleepwalking'' around at night. Roger wasn't too convinced that was true.  
''Do you remember the last time we bunked together?'' Freddie contemplated as if he had read his mind, turning his gaze at Roger.  
Roger was awfully glad he used the word 'bunked' instead of 'slept,' that would have made him truly uncomfortable. ''Not really, do you?''  
''Of course, I do, it was the day before Christmas Eve, two years ago. You knocked on my door in the middle of the night. You went home with some lass who robbed you of your purse, so you had to walk home and my house was closest. I put you in the guest bedroom but guess who came crawling into my bed an hour later? Snoring like a bloody lorry driver. You kept me up _all_ fucking night. I think that was the first time that I was quite tempted to punch you in the face,''

Roger chuckled wide, suddenly amped up to splash some more oil onto the fire. ''Oh yeah? What about that time I sold your new jacket to that lady at the market?'' he commiserated. Oh, the renowned yellow submarine jacket, how long they had teased him with it. It was bright canary yellow with black stripes on it and incredibly hideous and yet it looked amazing on Freddie. He wore it with the same pride that he wore all his clothing and it still hung in his cabinet today, six years later. He still put it on all the time. Freddie had never truly forgiven him for selling it in the first place.  
And right on cue, Freddie groaned loudly, stomping Roger's arm brazenly. A wide mischievous smirk dancing over his face. ''I should have burned you at the stake for that like a rotisserie chicken. I still can't believe you did that to me. My brand new blazer! You just handed it to that Polish lady who made me _buy_ it back from her for even more money that I had spent on it myself! I should have strangled you for that, Rog,''

''But you didn't. Besides I solemnly swear and insist that I didn't know it was yours, I told you this countless times already,''  
''Liar,'' Freddie sang accusingly, stealing the lyrics of their Liar song and whacking them straight in Roger's face. ''I really didn't know,'' Roger attempted again, knowing it was utterly futile.  
The truth was that he had in fact not known it was Freddie's blazer, but he had never believed him. He claimed that he had shown it to Roger and twirled around in it in front of his very eyes but Roger had no recollection of that whatsoever.  
Though in all fairness he was generally quite distracted by all the gorgeous lasses at the market. And also quite tipsy. So they could both be speaking the truth.  
Freddie had probably shown him and Roger hadn't been paying attention.  
They had squabbled endlessly over the memory and still liked to tease each other with it.

And it felt nice to joke around with Freddie again as if nothing had radically changed between them. Acting like this, Roger could afford to stay in denial for a bit longer. Denial felt good. Safe.  
''Poppycock,'' Freddie stated mulishly, waving his arguments away dismissively. ''You knew damn well what you were doing, darling. You are far too smart to pretend to be that clueless,''  
Roger shook his head in disbelief, giving up for the thousandth time. ''Fine, you win. Whatever helps you sleep at night,''  
''Well at the moment you aren't exactly helping me sleep at night are you?''  
''I knew you were going to say that,''  
''Well shut the hell up then Blondie, let this old man get his beauty sleep. You could use it too, no offence love but you've looked better,'' Freddie jested.

Roger knew it was true, he was looking like shit. He had critically stared at his own reflection in the mirror ten minutes ago and nearly keeled over in shock.  
His eyes were bloodshed from crying in Freddie's arms, dark circled decorated underneath his eyelids and his hair was quite greasy. His face looked all puffy and exhausted.  
But Roger was in no mood to let Freddie claim the final say tonight. He was sharpening his blades and actually went on the offensive. ''My my, is that any way to speak to the man who's _supposedly_ the love of your life?''

For a frightful moment, he feared that he may have pissed Freddie off, for there was a shard of uncertainty lingering in his eyes but then Freddie surprised Roger for once and burst out into heartfelt laughter that illuminated the entire bedroom, warming Roger's heart. He hadn't heard Freddie laugh like that because of anything he said in over a week. Only now did he truly understand how much he had longed for it, how he had missed it.  
He was the only one who could make Freddie bellow like that.  
It was a right preserved especially for him. He had a strict monopoly on it and was quite attached to achieving it.

They often spoke to one another like this, phrases like _'I hate you bitch,'_ and _'oh piss off you old wanker,'_ were not uncommon in their repertoire.  
In fact, they were a sign of affection rather than anything else. Roger realized that this was by far the most sincere conversation they had shared since their fight over his song. Speaking to each other like this was heartfelt and true, other than the staggering shit-show they had performed the last few days.  
Tiptoeing around each other, dancing around on eggshells, being far too polite with each other to be believable. It just wasn't them.

This felt more palpable and genuine than anything else they had told each other and Roger felt glad for it. Relieved. It was easier to convince himself that maybe, if he was very lucky, things would go back to normal, eventually. He was lying to himself again.  
Freddie was still gasping for breath as he wiped some joyous tears from his eyes. He laid a hand on Roger's hair and ruffled through the long strands, looking rather fond. ''Oh dear lord, welcome back Rog. I missed my old, sarcastic little bitch. That was a _beautiful_ comeback love, well done!''

Roger felt nearly proud at the praise and wished he was a peacock so that he could ruffle his feathers in Freddie's face as a playful fuck you. ''Thanks Fred,'' he beamed, swatting Freddie's hand out of his hair. He hated it when people messed around with his hair. Especially when he truly had to wash it. ''I need a fucking shower,'' he explained when he saw Freddie's questioning glance. He usually only allowed Freddie to scope through his hair, knowing that he loved to braid it or comb it when he got bored. He would lay his head onto Freddie's lap and let himself be groomed like a purebred poodle.

''I don't mind,'' Freddie reassured him. ''I do,'' Roger ogled the clock and noticed it was nearly two in the morning. ''Can we go to sleep now? It's late and I can barely keep my eyes open anymore,''  
Freddie nodded fervently, leaning in a bit to peck Roger's cheek. ''Sure,'' he retorted. His fingers ghosted over Roger's temple and their eyes met somewhere halfway.  
Roger saw many things in Freddie's mysterious glance. But most of all he saw fine layers of love embroidered with a mellow, tender expression that he hadn't seen in a long time.  
Freddie was as relaxed like a cat that was lazing around in the sun. Completely at ease and content.

Roger couldn't resist the urge to scoot in closer and hold Freddie tight, pulling him into his arms, resting his head against the soft hairs of Freddie's sternum.  
He could sense Freddie's hesitant amazement, clearly doubtful whether Roger actually wanted to sleep that close to him, but eventually when he was assured that Roger wasn't going anywhere, the singer's arms came around him, stroking over the fabric of his cotton nightshirt.  
Lifting it a bit so he could reach the small of his back.  
When he brushed over the supple sensitive skin, Roger chuckled. He had always been ticklish and Freddie knew just where to press in order to make him laugh like a girl. ''Don't make me regret this you big tease,'' he threatened under his breath, his voice low and husked.

Freddie mumbled a pitiful, ''Sorry love,''  
''It's okay,''  
''Hey Rog?''  
Roger sighed deeply, trying to concentrate, hearing the seriousness in Freddie's voice that told him he had to focus. ''Yes, Freddie?''

''I want you to know that I don't have any expectations from you. You know, about all of  _this_. I know I threw you for a gigantic loop and I don't want you to feel pressured to do anything you don't want to do nor say things you will regret. I never meant for you to find out about any of this. I hope I didn't ruin everything we had for good,''

Roger reluctantly veered his head upward from Freddie's chest and stared at him, his eyes narrowing due to his poor eyesight. Freddie was slightly out of focus, he shouldn't have drunk that much. Also, he was nearly blind without his contacts. But he needed to make sure that Freddie understood him properly. And that required eye-contact. ''Listen to me very carefully: you _haven't_ ruined anything. I may be a bit out of it now and need to quit feeling so conflicted but I'm glad that I found out about this. I truly am.  
Clearly, this was weighing heavily on your shoulders and now you can share it with me, hand me some of the load that you're carrying. I'm here to take care of you, now and forever. No matter what happens next. I can't lose you any more than you can lose me, Fred. I have you, I'm not going anywhere,''

Freddie let out a sniff and Roger saw relief wash over his friend. He kissed Roger's forehead deeply and collected Roger firmer against his chest, nearly suffocating him with his pecs. ''Need-to-breathe-'' Roger warned him. Freddie eased his grip quickly. ''You're too good for this world sweetheart,''

''I'm not, you are,''  
Freddie smiled appreciatively, coursing another bold hand through Roger's hair. Roger didn't care to protest. ''Good night Blondie,''  
''Good night, Fred,''

Roger fell asleep nearly immediately after uttering those words, safely hidden away in the security of Freddie Mercury's strong arms. The man who loved him more than anyone else in the world. Who made him feel like no one could hurt him as long as he was around. Now if only Roger wasn't so keen on hurting and sabotaging himself they may actually stand a chance. Maybe.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC......_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took up almost all of my day, seeing how I had to write it twice. Anyhow, next chapter will be Roger's POV too, seeing how I'm not nearly done with him yet and I want to incorporate the rest of what I had written today before I lost it all. It's sort of crucial to his storyline.
> 
> Roger actually did sell Freddie's jacket at the market, so I had to incorporate that. Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it. I have square eyes now so please forgive the typos, I've been writing this for like 9 hours straight.
> 
> I might go back in tomorrow morning to pencil in some more things and edit a thing or two so you may wanna read it again later. 
> 
> I want to thank Freddie Mercury for helping me through this chapter, twice. I took him as my inspiration and told myself to suck it up and do it. He helped me persevere. Thank you, Freddie.


	7. Love of my life, love of my life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger wakes up in Freddie's bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long guys. Life got in the way. But I'm making this up to you with a long chapter. 
> 
> Anyway, this will be Roger's last POV chapter, after this one I will probably write an epilogue. Or maybe one more Freddie chapter and then an epilogue. You let me know what you want all right? 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you liked this.

_Roger._

 

 

 

 

When Roger awoke the following morning he felt a bit disoriented as to where he was. He groaned and felt a throbbing headache veering its ugly head again making him miserable. By his standards he hadn't even drunk that much and yet he was apparently paying the price for it for some bizarre reason.  
When he had acknowledged that he was, in fact, resting in Freddie's room instead of his own the events of last night came screaming back to him. Well not like a scream but more like a whisper.  
There were multiple rays of warm sunlight beaming into the bedroom through the open shutter and Roger reckoned it was around ten in the morning. When he turned to face the clock he was only ten minutes off his guess.  
For some strange reason, he was quite good at guessing the time, he had a talent for it.  
Which probably helped him when they created a song, his timing was seldom off and he was infamous for never missing a beat. He wasn't a bloody amateur after all. He prided himself in knowing just what he was doing when he sat behind his drums.

Freddie was predominantly absent from the bed, that realization was only now dawning on him.  
An ornate chair stood close by the bed and there was a burning cigarette wasting away on the nightstand.  
Those signs of life lead Roger to the deduction that Freddie couldn't have gone very far.  
His open sketchbook lay beside the ashtray and Roger saw faint smudges of a new drawing. But he needed his contacts or a pair of glasses to see what it was exactly, although he had a sneaking suspicion he could guess what it was.  
All he could see were spots darting in front of his eyes. ''Freddie!'' Roger called out.

Freddie peeked his head around the corner, holding a mug of steaming tea in his hands, placing it besides the bed. He wore his canary striped crop-top that reminded Roger of the yellow submarine blazer, and a pair of simple dark shorts. ''Good morning, sunshine. Would you like some tea?'' Freddie chimed cheerfully.  
''Morning, uh yes please,''  
''Don't move,'' Freddie told him. Roger had a nagging feeling that Freddie quite liked seeing him in his bed. That if it were up to Freddie he wouldn't use his own bed ever again. ''I have to, Fred. I need my contacts or else I won't see a bloody thing. You know my eyesight is completely awful,''  
''Oh all right, you do that but then you go straight back to bed,''  
''Geez you're so bossy on this early morning,'' Roger complained teasingly.  
''Baby you know it, I'll only take a sec,''

Roger shook his head in disbelief when Freddie slipped back down to retrieve his tea. He went to his own bedroom to get his lenses and carefully placed them over his eyes in the bathroom. He still wasn't quite used to the feeling if he was perfectly honest.  
It had stung at first and felt incredibly uncomfortable and to be fair Roger preferred glasses but they made him look quite dull and like a nerd, not a rockstar so he settled for the contacts to look better.  
He was quite vain and liked to keep in style. Glasses were for nerds and wannabe professors like Brian. To Roger, it felt like a cruel twist of fate that Brian's eyesight was pristine especially since he was so perfect for a pair of spectacles. Or a monocle. It would only make him look even smarter.  
Roger however couldn't afford to wear any other glasses than sunglasses. Normal ones would make him look ridiculously tedious.  
Now that he had his eyesight back and went to the loo he obediently slid back into Freddie's bed. While he waited for him he couldn't help but notice the sketch. He lifted the book from the nightstand and blinked at it.

Freddie had drawn him as he slept.  
Of course, he had. Roger lay there, resting on his stomach, an arm curled under his pillow and a serene look on his face. They were merely rough, chalky outlines that needed to be perfected but still, Roger admired the context. It was very undeniably him. Freddie truly was an artist who could have earned his livelihood by selling paintings if he hadn't become a star. If Roger and Brian had never met him.  
Roger was convinced that without Freddie they would have never become this famous, they would still be Smile. Your every day local student band that had one somewhat of a hit and no one had ever heard of afterwards. Roger and Brian had great voices but since Tim left they would have been left to their own devices. Roger doubted that they could have achieved this level of greatness without Freddie parading like a proud peacock on the stage, luring people in with his movements and his natural born charisma.  
No, Freddie had elevated their performance, lifting them to the stars, pressing them to be even better. To not settle for all right but to strive for complete and total perfection. Fine was not good enough for him and thus not good enough for Queen either.

Freddie reappeared in the doorway and froze in his tracks when he saw Roger sitting in his bed with his sketchbook in his hands. ''Well, do come in Fred, there's no need to hover around like that,'' Roger said, inviting Freddie to come into his own sodding bedroom.  
''It's quite good, really good actually,'' Roger assured him when Freddie still remained to look so in distress and filled with anxiety.  
As if Roger had caught him masturbating or something like that. Well, in fact, he had, several times, when they all lived together.  
Roger was now desperately struggling to get those haughty images out of his mind as he futilely attempted to recollect his thoughts. Freddie had the capability to make everything he did look sexy, even rubbing himself off. ''It's fine, Freddie. Truly. I don't mind. Just get in here,'' he insisted when Freddie still hadn't moved a single foot. ''My tea is getting cold,'' Roger complained snidely, growing impatient.

Finally, Freddie stepped inside and handed him his mug of Earl Grey. ''Thank you,'' Roger tapped the mattress invitingly, trying to goad Freddie into sitting beside him. ''I won't bite, bloody hell what's the matter with you this morning? Are you feeling ill? You're looking quite out of it,''  
Freddie shook his head as he eventually moved to sit down across from Roger, crossing his legs together like a solemn Buddha statue. ''No, it's just-I hadn't counted on you finding _that_. Seeing it,''  
''What's the big deal? I've flipped through this entire thing last night, what's one more self-portrait?''  
Freddie's lip started quivering ominously. ''I know but this one I wanted to keep for myself. A lovely  _memory_ just for me. A recollection of the one night that you slept in my arms. Sounds terribly sentimental but I don't know, this drawing was just-''  
''Private,'' Roger filled in for him. He understood the problem now. Freddie had reckoned that this would be a once in a lifetime experience and had, therefore, wanted to capture the aftermath of it on paper so that he would always remember, cherish how Roger had looked, resting in his bed.

This conclusion told Roger that Freddie was expecting that it likely wouldn't happen again and therefore that Roger would never return his feelings. Which made him a bit sad really.  
That Freddie had clearly already lost hope before Roger had even begun to sort out his own feelings.  
He knew that it was understandable though, from Freddie's point of view, considering his track record with women and his total lack of faith in relationships. Still, it stung a bit for some inexplicable reason that Roger couldn't rightly comprehend just yet.  
He laid a hand to Freddie's forearm, his mug of tea balancing perilously in his other, the content nearly spilling over. Roger took a few hastily sips, burning his tongue in the process. He choked, hard.  
He placed the mug on the nightstand with a hard thud and coughed as Freddie patted his back. ''I'm sorry, Fred. I didn't mean to _invade_ your privacy, I was just curious you know and I sort of acted before I knew it,''  
''As usual,'' Freddie said concisely.  
''Yes, as usual. You won't stay mad at me too long will you?''

Freddie's ebony eyes softened and he exhaled deeply. ''I've already forgotten it, darling. Compared to what we fought over last week I don't want to be cross over something this silly. You're forgiven, but I sure would appreciate it if you'd ask me to look through this from now on,''  
''I will,'' Roger vowed. He brought the mug to his lips again blew on the liquid and drank it slowly. ''Were you up early then?''

''Around seven, you were sleeping so sweetly, I didn't have the heart to wake you so I got out and had to draw you.  
It wasn't much of a choice. You hadn't looked that innocent and I wanted a reminder for when you're being an insolent little devil that makes my life miserable again. To know that you can also be an angel at times, not merely a sly little demonic pixy,''  
Roger crossed his arms defensively but couldn't resist the smirk spreading over his face. ''Hey I'm not that bad,''  
''Oh please you little _bitch_ , who the fuck are you kidding?'' Freddie huffed dramatically, eccentrically gesturing his arms about like he did when he was getting all amped up. But Freddie was only messing with him, he could tell.

Last night they had finally gone back to their usual way of speaking to each other. Things were normal, _nearly_.  
Roger knew that once they started and really got going this they wouldn't be able to stop bitching at each other.  
They thrived on driving each other mad and being a little too competitive with each other. It got their blood pumping, so to speak.  
And plus, it was good fun. But Roger's headache threw him for a loop and he was still a tad sleepy and therefore off his game. He wouldn't be able to retaliate nor parry anything Freddie would fling in his face.  
This little banter session would have to wait a couple of hours before Roger had any chance of beating him.

Roger stifled a yawn and Freddie rubbed his hand lovingly through his hair. ''Aww you're _so_ cute like that. I guess you're a bit too tired to come up with a witty remark. That's fine, darling. I'll be patiently waiting for it later, give you some time to fabricate something clever,''  
Roger swatted his hand away and nudged Freddie back. ''Stop being such a patronizing shit, I'm not seven years old!''  
''And yet you constantly act like you are, case in point: last night's whole cupboard fiasco!''  
Fantastic, Freddie would never let him forget about that for as long as he lived. At every chance he would get he would tease him with it. He should have known it was a recipe for disaster when he had climbed into it.  
Roger snorted haughtily and rolled his eyes at Freddie, awarding him with a look that would have scared the devil himself. But not Freddie, he was not afraid of anything. Well, except losing Roger probably. ''Will you piss off and let me drink my tea in peace you colossal oaf. It's mean to pick on me when I'm still half asleep,''  
Freddie mapped another beamingly hot hand through Roger's greasy hair. ''I know,''

Roger drank his tea in sullen, pensive silence and Freddie was humming to himself. Roger recognized the melody as the March of the black queen.  
Those were quite good but also impossible to remember and it was a menace to sing live during a concert.  
Most of Freddie's lyrics were and while Roger's memory was quite advanced he sometimes forgot the lines. That could also be because he always drank two shots of bourbon before a show.  
Maybe he oughtn't to do that. Every morning when he woke up to a hangover he told himself he wouldn't drink again. He still hadn't been able to break that pattern and a part of him knew he wouldn't. It would be like asking him to stop smoking. Roger without a cigarette in his hands was quite unthinkable and hard to imagine.  
No, Roger was who he was and the booze and countless fags were a defining part of him. As were the women.

Roger wondered at that moment if he would ever be with another woman again or whether Freddie had crawled under his skin now and alternated his sexual preferences for good.  
Perhaps he no longer liked women, he contemplated. It was a scary rather crazed thought and yet it felt like a plausible possibility.  
Especially since his feelings had shifted about him a while back and he could not stop staring at Freddie. Couldn't help but feel lured in by his sensuality. He had wondered about what it would be like to sleep with Freddie for a while but that had been mainly sexual.  
Now he had to swallow the emotional side of it too.  
Freddie loved him, was head over heels in love with him. He could never simply fuck Freddie without implementing further emotional consequences to their relationship. Roger had to keep that in mind, tell himself that when he would be on the verge of doing something impulsive.

His slender, calloused fingers were aching for his drumsticks. He wanted his drums right now, he needed them to clear the heavy fog inside his mind.  
They helped to see things more clearly and yet he couldn't get to them because they were in the barn opposite from the house and Deaky had taken off with the keys. Right, Deaky. They should truly give him and Brian a ring, to let them know that things were sorted and that they could come back.

And right on cue, the telephone starting ringing from the kitchen. ''I'll get it!'' Freddie exclaimed, storming off with the speed of light, leaving a slightly bemused Roger behind.

Freddie was up the stairs a minute later, panting mildly. ''Bri asks if they can come back already. What should I tell him?''  
Roger contemplated this thoroughly.  
A part of him really wanted to see their friends, longed for the ability to be able to escape the heat of the house and go into town for a drink.  
And yet there was something about being there with Freddie in total seclusion, sealed off from the outside world. Existing in their own little bubble.  
The second their bandmates stepped back into the farm, things would go back to business. All work and no play.  
Though to be fair, they were already a month late on finishing the album. The record company was starting to get quite aggravated with their tardiness. When he couldn't decide he offered a small shrug to Freddie. ''You decide. I'm fine either way,''

Freddie chewed on his lip and Roger could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek, he did that sometimes when he was feeling torn. ''I'll tell them to come home, all right?''  
''Fine,'' Roger agreed, sipping his tea slowly.  
Freddie went back down and Roger let out a deep sigh. Great, Paul _fucking_ Prenter was coming around too. He'd nearly forgotten about him. He would have to collect his things and get the fuck out of their lives. Forever. Thank god for that.

Roger decided in that instance to be nice for once and help Paul pack so that he could leave immediately as he stepped into the farm.  
He drank his tea quickly, went into the little rat's bedroom and started flinging his clothing into his old brown suitcases. With each item of clothing he felt a triumphant feeling course through him, a little voice that wanted to whisper to Paul, _''I've won you arsehole, I've won and you can't have him any longer. He's mine,''_  
Due to Freddie's lessons at the market, Roger was quite good at folding clothing but decided not to bother with Paul's shit.  
He simply flung them into the suitcases provocatively. Furiously.  
In fact, he made certain that they were as creased as possible when Paul would take them out. That would put that smug, _conniving_ bitch in his place. He even contemplated pissing all over his stuff but luckily for Paul, he didn't have to go.

Freddie's voice piped up behind him. ''What in god's name are you doing, darling?''  
''I'm assisting the little shit in packing him up so he can leave the second he has to step over the threshold of our house,''  
''Roger,'' Freddie's voice sounded inscrutable. A little sad perhaps? Was he scolding him? Roger couldn't tell. ''Why are you looking at me like that?'' Roger questioned, going on the offensive.  
''I don't think you should debase yourself like that. Sinking down to his level. I know this is very personal to you but I don't like to see you act like this. You're better than that, better than him,''

Roger snorted provocatively. ''Oh you're fucking right it is bloody _personal_ to me. He tried to steal you away from us. From our band. Tried to nudge me out of the band I founded. But most of all he tried to-''  
''Steal me away from _you_ ,'' Freddie stated when Roger had clearly swallowed his words.  
Roger took hold of Freddie's hands that were crossed in front of his chest. ''Yes,''  
''And you never forgive a slight. Let alone something like this,''  
''I was trying to protect you, Fred. He's dangerous to you. He would have let you down a path that may have destroyed you in the process,''  
''Don't pretend that you did this solely for me, darling. You wanted him out of the way because you were stinking jealous and thought that we were fucking, you've admitted it yourself,''  
''I was jealous, yeah. Does that knowledge please you? Does it-'' Roger had to bite his tongue to halt himself. He was being too disruptive and forward and finishing this sentence would likely result in him driving Freddie further away from him again and possibly right back into Paul's greedy arms.  
No, he couldn't risk it. Not until he was certain that Paul was out of the way for good. Him and his elusive silver tongue. Roger couldn't play into his hand by starting another argument with Freddie. That would be a disaster waiting to happen.

''Does it what? Get me hard? Get my dick wet?'' Freddie sneered, guessing the gist of what Roger had wanted to say. It didn't escape his notice that Freddie was getting all riled up and hotheaded again. He had to act swiftly else he would be right back where they had started twenty-four hours ago. His hands squeezed Freddie's lightly and with his left, he cradled Freddie's warm cheek. ''No, Fred. I didn't mean it like that, all right? I'm sorry. I don't wanna lose you again over the likes of him all right? Please? I mean we only just made up, I can't go back to how things were last week. Not over him,''  
Freddie's face softened and there was newfound warmth resonating in his eyes. ''All right, consider yourself forgiven- _again_. It's a good thing you're so precious to me, love. If any other had done and said the crude things you had I wouldn't have looked them in the eye again,''

''Yes, you would. You don't hold grudges, Fred. It's one of the things I love most about you. I mean look at you; Paul has screwed you over and here you are still trying to defend him. Even after all he's done. You don't have a hateful bone in your body and I hope you never will,'' Roger declared fondly, stroking a lock of long hair out of Freddie's face, tugging it behind his ear. He leant in and placed a soft peck to Freddie's forehead. ''I wish I was more like you at times. I can never seem to let anything go,''  
''You're not _that_ bad, love,'' Freddie hummed happily, cheeks a bit flushed due to Roger's sudden affections.  
''See? And now you're defending me even though you know that doing so is complete and utter bullshit,''

Freddie grinned lavishly at him, pulling Roger into a firm embrace. ''Well you are worth defending, Rog,'' he said astutely, brushing his hands through Roger's hair, caressing the skin of Roger's neck. Roger felt goosebumps appear and shivers go over his spine. He swallowed thickly as the musky scent of Freddie reached his nostrils, entrancing him, seducing him until he couldn't think and his mind had turned to sludge.  
He was so close now, so close to breaking and kissing the life out of Freddie. He wanted to, that was the most disturbing terrifying thought of it all. That he literally craved for it. Roger was completely fucked.  
He pulled his face back and stared at Freddie, contemplating his next move. What should he do? He wanted to close the distance so badly it was literally hurting. His chest was heaving erratically and he could tell that Freddie was waiting for him to act. Sensing that he should leave it up to Roger to decide what he wanted to do.

It felt like a turning point. Roger had emerged at the familiar crossroad again and had to make a choice. Right here and now.  
Right or left? Freddie as his-what? Lover, his partner? Or just Freddie as his best friend, the man who carried him home when he was drunk and let him crash at his place but nothing more. If he said yes to all of this and then stuffed it up, which seemed like a realistic plausibility, would they be able to go back to being best friends? Or would Roger have ruined it for good?

And what about Freddie? Sure he proclaimed that Roger was the love of his life and he believed him but Freddie had big _appetites_ too. He wanted the world and Roger wasn't rightly convinced that he would be willing to share Freddie with anyone.  
Being a full-time rockstar usually entailed that you slept around with many women, or in Freddie's case men. Being on the road it was bound to happen. Would Freddie be able to stay faithful to Roger in that situation?  
Would Roger be willing and capable of doing the same for Freddie? He wasn't sure. Perhaps it didn't matter. Maybe they would still sleep around and yet still be committed to one another? Was that even possible? Maybe not for most people but he and Freddie had never exactly been normal. Nothing about them nor their dysfunctional relationship was ever truly ordinary.

Freddie shied away from him once again before Roger had sorted out his inner conflict and stroked his cheek lovingly. ''I said you could take all the time you needed, _love_. And I meant it. So take that suggestion to heart, all right? There's no rush here. I'm not going anywhere. You shouldn't do things you might regret later,''  
Roger appreciated that affirmation but a part of him wanted to punch Freddie for intruding and breaking the spell. He was so fond of doing shit he may regret later. It was his forte. It was in his DNA. But rationally he knew that Freddie was right. He couldn't make a decision just yet. And it wasn't fair to Freddie to lead him on by kissing him and giving him the wrong impression. Roger couldn't be selfish.  
''Fine, so breakfast then?''  
''Sounds good to me,'' Freddie nodded. He gave Roger a not so subtle wink and sprinted down the stairs with the upbeat energy of a ten-year-old.

Roger, who still wasn't completely awake just yet, took a shower first, finally rinsing his dirty hair and then followed in pursuit. They ate their cereal in amicable silence. Roger scoped through the newspaper and Freddie was scribbling lyrics down as he smoked one fag after the other. Ten minutes later they heard someone at the door, ringing the bell.  
Probably Brian, trying to give them a heads up that they had returned. Roger followed Freddie to the front door and waited for their friends to let them out of their prison. Roger could finally see his drum-kit again! That prospect surely excited him, his fingers were aching for some action. Brian stepped inside first, followed by John.  
Freddie flung himself in Brian's arms and Roger could tell that Freddie had missed him a lot. Even though Freddie would never admit it to anyone he was quite attached to Brian. They literally bickered all the time but were incredibly fond of one another. He was like the brother that Freddie had never had.

John hesitantly stepped toward him and Roger smirked reassuring before pulling him into a firm hug. ''Hello Deaks, you conniving little bugger,''  
''Hey Rog,'' John's muffled response told Roger he was holding him a bit too tight. He released him, mildly whacking their bassist on the back of his head as a sort of revenge for locking them in there in the first place.  
''Ouch! Don't mishandle me you brute!'' John complained. ''You're lucky this is the _only_ flick of my hand you're getting,'' Roger said, smirking wide. When he saw John's slightly bemused face he added, ''Oh do cheer up Deaky, you knew you were going to get smacked around a little for doing this to us. It's out of my system now, you're clear unless Fred would like to have a go,''

That was a rather empty threat and they both knew it. Freddie would never lay a hand on John, he protected him fiercely, acting like a proper mother hen whenever John was around. ''I would never,'' Freddie proclaimed, sounding offended but also mildly amused. He released Brian to pull John into a fierce hug. ''Hello little darling, how goes your day?''

Roger shook his head in disbelief and made his way over to Brian, hugging him tightly. ''Hey Bri, it's good to see you,'' he told him. No, it wasn't good to see him, it was bloody wonderful. He had missed Brian a lot. He truly needed to talk to him about all of his doubts. Brian always knew what to do. ''And you, Rog. I'm so pleased that you two made up. I must admit I had my concerns about this plan but I'm glad it panned out all right,''

''What was that Brian? I couldn't hear you?'' John chimed teasingly. ''Tell me I was right _once_ more would you, please?''  
Brian grovelled, looking nearly pitiful. It was a comical sight. He sighed so deep that he nearly deflated like a balloon. ''Fine, you were right John. It was a marvellous plan and I shouldn't have questioned it. There, happy now?''  
John grinned mischievously. ''Quite,''

A voice cleared its throat behind them and Roger only then realized that Paul sodding Prenter had reemerged into their kitchen. He was looking royally pissed off and defeated, just the way Roger preferred to see him. ''Freddie,'' Paul acknowledged, not even bothering to look at Roger. ''Paul,'' Freddie said icily. ''We packed your shit for you, so please take your suitcases and leave,''

''I hope you know that you will regret this, Freddie. I know a lot of stories about you. I have pictures of you. What's to stop me from going to the press and exposing your secrets?''

 _This son of a whore was trying to bribe Freddie,_ Roger thought grimly. Trying to get Freddie to buy his silence. Roger balled his fists but realized he had to let Freddie deal with this himself. Fitting lyrics that now seemed to be congested especially for Paul made their way into Roger's mind.  _"Here comes the black queen, poking in the pile,"_

''Are you asking me for money?'' Freddie asked coldly. The sheer dismay and disgust palpable in his voice.  
''Well, if you don't want to see your private life on the news tomorrow night I would advise you to pay up, yes,''  
Roger couldn't stay silent any longer, he was bursting. ''You _fucking_ piece of-''  
Freddie gave him a warning glance and grabbed hold of Roger's chest, stopping him from storming over to Paul and beating the shit out of him.

''Tell your little whore to be silent, Freddie. This is between you and me,''  
Roger felt Freddie freeze beside him, sensed the fury that was coursing through him, erupting out of Freddie like waves of hot lava. When Freddie spoke his quivering voice was laced with unnerving amounts of sheer hatred. ''What did you call him?''  
''Your little _whore_ , which is exactly what he is. He can never love you, Freddie, he's a worthless piece of arse but nothing more. He doesn't care about you as I do. Roger only truly loves _himself_. He'll leave you, sooner or later. For an endless string of women. You know this. He's a disgusting _slut_ that-''

Roger couldn't hold Freddie back anymore. He broke free from his grasp and lunged at Paul before Roger could stop him. He knocked him onto the floor with a single jab straight to his nose. Roger swore he heard the bone crack. Blood was gushing out of it as Paul lay on the floor tiles, frantically trying to block Freddie's punches by crossing his arms in front of his face.  
Freddie was hunched over him, hitting him wherever he could, completely berserk with rage that nearly threatened to drown him. Roger felt it too, it was crashing over him like waves over rocks.

Freddie was downright scary at that moment and it had to be Brian who intervened, Roger's feet were glued to the floor. He couldn't have moved if he wanted to. Freddie's fury was resonating inside his own chest, bursting out in erratic waves. ''Fred! Stop that! He's not worth it! Get off of him this instant! John a little help please!'' Brian cried out helplessly when he couldn't manage to get Freddie off Paul by himself.  
John tried to help by hooking his arm around Freddie's shoulder and pulled simultaneously with Brian but Freddie's adrenaline gave him new strength and he was like an immovable object.

Roger had to do this. Had to be the one to stop it. Even if he felt like Paul got precisely what he had bargained for and a part of him wanted to sit down with a bucket of popcorn and enjoy the show. He would have done just that if it weren't for the fact that he knew that Freddie would thoroughly hate himself for this when he got back to his senses afterwards. He had to step in, not for Paul's miserable sake, Roger could care less about him but for Freddie.

Freddie needed to be stopped, saved from himself and Roger was the only one who was remotely qualified to do so.    
His legs finally moved and he stepped forward. ''Move,'' he sternly told his mates. ''I got this,''

John eventually managed to persuade Brian to release Freddie and they took three steps back as Roger knelt down beside Freddie. He leaned in, curling a hand around Freddie's neck and resting his cheek against Freddie's temple. He kept his voice low and husked. ''Fred, _please_ stop. You don't have to do this for me. He's not worth it, right? Remember? Just let him go. Your anger is physically hurting me, I can feel it heaving on my chest. This isn't you, you're a lover, not a fighter...remember?'' Freddie finally stilled but wasn't moving off the barely conscious Paul just yet. ''Freddie, please don't do this,''

Freddie looked up at him, the anger evaporating mildly as he extended his hand to Roger's cheek and pinched it slightly. ''Take my hand all right? Let's just get you off the floor, okay?'' Roger pushed on, sensing that Freddie was on the verge of caving. Freddie took the offered hand and Roger lifted him to his feet, holding him tight in his arms. ''No one gets to call you a whore,'' Freddie hissed, spitting out the words like a dragon spat fire. ''I know Fred, I know,'' Roger soothed.  
Freddie's fists were bleeding and bruised and Roger knew they required ice. ''Come here, let me take care of you for a moment huh? You need to put some ice on your knuckles. Will you let me look after you?''  
Freddie smiled at him, inches of the old, sweet Freddie coming through again. The darkness gradually leaving his eyes. ''Yes you Rog, always you,'' he mumbled vaguely.  
''Good,'' Roger said, rubbing Freddie's lower back gently.

He led him to the chair that was the furthest from Paul and sat him down. ''Get him out of here now,'' he hissed at Brian, throwing anxious glances at Paul.  
Brian and John lifted Paul to his feet, woke him the best they could and shooed him out of the house. Brian following in pursuit to make certain he wouldn't keel over in the process. Paul hadn't said a word on his way out and Roger was grateful for it. The tiniest thing could set Freddie off into another fit of uncontrollable rage.

Roger grabbed some ice-cubes from the freezer and placed them into a table-cloth. ''Here you go,'' he laid it to Freddie's still balled fists and pressed it down slowly, dapping some of the blood off his fingers.

Freddie barely even flinched even though it must have hurt and Roger was once again in awe of his strength. Freddie was still very far away though and Roger wanted him back. Craved to take his hand and bring him home. He did the only thing that made sense to him at that moment.  
He leaned in and kissed Freddie hard on the lips, groaning at the familiar feeling that made his entire body spring to life. He had to do it. He wanted to. Freddie deserved a little thank you for standing up for him like that. Doing so had made Roger feel more loved and cherished than ever before in his life.

Their mouths moved together as one, lazily and yet insistent. It felt beyond amazing, copious waves of warm affection palpable in his chest, spreading throughout his veins until every fibre of him had sprung into life and was consumed with all Freddie had to give.    
Sealing their lips together, moving them slowly and lavishly, Roger felt the world turning back to what it was again. Life was starting to make sense again and the lips felt _so_ good against his own.  
So desperate and eerily greedy for more. Roger floated around in the clouds like a slender cherub as Freddie made the most wonderful noises that vibrated like a falsetto against his lips.

Roger was home. And there in the aftermath of Freddie beating the living shit out of Paul, he had finally found the answer that silenced all of his questions.  
He loved Freddie, was in love with Freddie. And he wanted to be with him. Even if they may not make it. Freddie made him feel _alive_. Made him feel like he was the most important person in the world.   
Freddie was worth it to risk everything for. And if Freddie could be courageous than so could Roger. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC......_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had to put Paul in his place.  
> I originally wanted Roger to beat the crap out of him but I changed it to Freddie. Who was a boxer as a child. It may be a bit out of character for him but I believe he would be able to do that if anyone messed with Roger.  
> I hoped you liked it. Let me know all right? 
> 
> Thank for reading and the amazing support you guys continue to give me. This story wouldn't exist without it. <3


	8. When I grow older, I will be there at your side to remind you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Freddie's brawl with Paul reveals some interesting things. 
> 
> Brian voices his concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we've reached the last chapter before the epilogue you guys. I can't believe this is nearly over. It's been a really fun ride and I've loved all the support and notes this story has received. It means a lot to me. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter and that I will see you guys again at my next Freddie/Brian fic. I'll be starting that shortly, after the epilogue of course haha. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! <333

_Freddie._

 

 

 

 

 

Freddie felt as though he was dancing around through the clouds on Mount Olympus, high in the sky. Parading and strutting proudly like he was the bloody Queen of the world. A powerful God that was glancing down on mother earth from miles away. Beams of hot sunlight were radiating through him, coming from Roger, who at that moment represented Apollo, the _unconquerable_ sun. The staggering source of light in Freddie's life.  
Roger kissing him once more had come as a surprise, even though it shouldn't have. Everyone loved a good knight in shining armour who stepped up to protect them, even Roger. His lips twitched up widely and he gazed down at himself and Roger as if he was having an out of body experience.  
He saw Roger cling to him while their lips moved together slowly.  
Freddie didn't dare deepen the kiss just yet although he was craving for it, desperate for a languid French kiss. Roger was already brilliant at kissing him like this that his mind was tantalizingly curious to figure out what might happen when their tongues would finally meet.

And then the cord that had him floating around like an angel was suddenly cut by a cruel ginger haired bassist holding a pair of sharp scissors. John was clearing his throat loudly and the moment had passed.  
Roger pulled back instantly, clearly startled to realize that they had an audience. Freddie held onto Roger's arm, reluctant to let him go. He blinked at Deaky, sighing disgruntled. ''Enjoying the show, love?''

Deaky shrugged, plucking at the sleeve of his burgundy blouse. ''Not _particularly_ , although I'm glad you two finally sorted out your problems. Not that I counted on you two going from being at each other's throats to this, whatever it is,''  
Roger opened his mouth and then closed it, resembling a goldfish on dry land. It was nearly a comical sight and yet Freddie wasn't laughing. He was trying to find a way out of this conundrum.   
Their lovely bassist folded his hands together and Freddie knew that wise words would come erupting from his lips.  
Deaky hardly spoke but when he did he had something valuable to say. ''You don't have to justify any of this to me, Rog. This is between you two and I don't intend on intruding in your personal lives,''  
''That's sweet of you to say, darling, but this _will_  automatically have its impact on your lives too. This will radically change everything we do as Queen, like it or not,'' Freddie disputed.  
''You're right,'' Roger stated. That came as a bit of a shock to Freddie, that Roger was willing to acknowledge this and underline it as if he had finally made a choice and decided to go for it.  
Like he had debated his choices and picked Freddie, therefore being determined to give them a chance. Freddie nearly didn't dare believe it. It sounded far too good to be true. After all those long years of longing, it was nearly anticlimactic.  
To have won Roger over by simply stomping someone to the ground for him, over him.

Freddie knew that he should feel bad about what he did to Paul but surprisingly he felt very little remorse. He was not a violent man but Paul had brought out the worst in him. He had it coming and Freddie refused to feel guilty over it. He had done what he had to do, protected Roger's name and honour against the man who had nearly torn them apart. That had almost succeeded in coming between them, representing the ending of Queen. Why would he regret anything?

And he firmly believed in that until he took a good look at his hands. Roger had wrapped them into a checkered tea-cloth for him, giving his knuckles some much-needed icy relief but when he pulled the fabric back and looked at the damage he'd sustained he cringed.  
His hands were a complete and utter mess. The knuckles bloody and torn, bruises and scrapes all over them. Blood oozing, seeping from the skin, making him nauseous.  
Images of Paul's mangled, battered face returned to haunt him. He had beaten up Paul like some drunken hooligan after a football match. Paul, who had been his formerly good friend and personal assistant for years.  
What the hell had possessed him to behave like that? To use his hands instead of his words?

He was somewhat inclined to blame Roger for it his fierce need to protect him getting the better of him, thus explaining why he had gone overboard with his anger. But that wasn't fair to Roger.  
Roger hadn't asked him to defend him, hadn't put a gun against his head and threatened to kill him if he didn't beat the life out of Paul. No, this was all Freddie's own doing, he couldn't shove it off onto anyone else.

Roger, bless him and his keen eyes, picked up on his sullen remorseful emotions and brought him back to reality, rubbing his sternum. ''Stop that Fred. You didn't do anything wrong, he had it coming,''  
''I know, but that wasn't the real me, love. I didn't _mean_ to do it. Well, maybe a little but nothing like that. I totally lost control,''  
''Oh please, anyone would have done the same Freddie, if you hadn't hit him I surely would have,'' Deaky chimed in, coming to Roger's aid as usual. They occasionally liked to team up against Freddie and Brian when they were having an intense band debate. The youngsters conspiring against the oldies.  
''That's preposterous Deaky, you don't have a vile bone in your body,''  
''Neither do you and yet you just snapped. Everyone has a point of no return mate. Push something into a corner like that and eventually, the claws will come out,''  
''I guess,'' Freddie reluctantly agreed. He only now noticed Brian's absence. ''Where's Bri?''  
''Last I saw him he was shooing Prenter out the door,''

Brian emerged into the kitchen two seconds later, looking royally pissed off. He folded a piece of paper into the pocket of his blazer and sighed. ''Where have you been?'' Deaky inquired, creasing a sardonic eyebrow. ''Outside with Prenter,''  
''Why?''

''I've decided that we're going to pay him for his silence,'' Brian stated, bracing himself for the wave of imminent protests that were coming at him from three sides. ''Are you joking?'' Roger shrieked, sounding borderline hysterical. ''You _can't_ be serious, Brian,'' Deaky snapped and Freddie was just uttering incomprehensible verbs that oozed from his lips in an incohesive mess.  
When he finally found the right words he snorted snidely. ''Bri, I fucking love you, you're hands down the best guitarist I've ever seen. You're the voice of reason but what in the name of all that is good and holy possessed you to give that snake just what he wanted?''

Brian sat down at the table beside Deaky and gave Freddie his best _stern_ professor glance. ''Oh gee I don't know, perhaps the survival and endurance of Queen were what _possessed_ me to intervene, Freddie. Don't you understand that this story is a career killer? If it comes out we may as well quit immediately.  
We've only just had our breakthrough last year for Pete's sake. If this comes out we will never be truly great, no we'll be committing career suicide. I can already predict what the headlines are going to say: _breaking news, we've been informed of a_ _rather scandalous story from inside the band Queen where lead singer Freddie Mercury has beaten his former PA into the hospital. Is Mercury a madman with unresolved anger issues?_  
"He knows too much about us, about you. And you have just beaten the life out of him, likely broken his nose. How is that going to look on the BBC tomorrow night?  
Would you like to be the saucy centre point of a nice BBC exclusive? Your entire personal life laid bare on the table? No, I had to protect you, protect Queen from him. So we will do the only sensible thing in this situation and pay the man for his bloody silence.  
Even if we don't want to do it. What sort of choice do we have? I was trying to ensure our success, Fred. We have something truly special here, a magical formula.  
We cannot waste it away over the likes of him if we don't have to. I know you positively hate this, I do too. But I need you to agree to this. If you don't want to do it for yourself or Rog and Deaky then do it for me. Please?''

Freddie exhaled deep, his mind racing at a hundred miles an hour. Brian was right, the bloody bugger always was. He glimpsed at Deaky and Roger who silently agreed to Brian's proposal and Freddie decided to second that, not willing to ruin their chances of conquering the world with Queen. ''Fine, we'll pay the little insect. Can you two give us a moment?'' Freddie asked Roger and John. Roger nodded fervently. ''Sure, we'll be in-''  
''-the conservatory,'' Freddie filled in, but surprise surprise, Roger actually shook his head at that statement. ''No you numpty, we'll be outside. I'm going to pay my drum-kit a visit. I bet you the old gal has truly missed me,''  
''I'll come with,'' Deaky declared. Roger leaned in to peck the top of Freddie's head, whispering a husked  _''be nice,''_ into his ear before wandering off with Deaky, looking as ecstatic as a child to be reconciled with his precious drums after a considerable amount of time.

As they shut the door behind them Brian focused his attention back at him, frowning thoughtfully. ''So you and Rog then?''  
"Do you disapprove, dear?"  
''Not at all, although it does raise some rather serious questions,'' Brian stated, sounding drily concise. Clearly stating the obvious.  
Freddie lit a cig and blew the smoke as far away from Brian as he could, trying to be considerate to his bizarre aversion of smoking.  
''I realize that, thank you very much. Well, I'm not sure as to what we are exactly to be perfectly honest, love. But yes, _maybe_ we will get together. If I'm really lucky,''  
''And how do you reckon that is going to work out during our tours and such?''  
''This sounds an awful lot like an interrogation, darling. Are you trying to protect me or Roger by attempting to drag this out of me?''  
''Both of you, and Queen in general,''  
''Fascinating, seeing how Deaky just proclaimed that it was none of his business what happened between me and Rog,''

Brian twiddled his thumbs together and pursed his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Freddie knew that Brian and John seldom saw eye to eye.  
Their relationship had always been a bit strained. Complex. They worked well together but would never spend time together if they hadn't been in a band with one another. They were simply too different for that. ''While that is a nice sentiment, it is complete and utter bollocks. Clearly, it is going to be our business, Fred. We work and live together for nearly twenty-four seven. You two being a couple will automatically affect every decision that will be made for the band.  
It will change everything. I'm not opposed to this union don't get me wrong but I do hope you've thought this through properly. Also, you must understand that Roger is who he is, Freddie. He may not be able to give you complete loyalty. You must know this, you're too smart not to know it.  
He's never been in a longterm relationship and while he may have good intentions he might still accidentally mess it up and fall into temptation,''

Freddie wanted to cover his ears as he felt himself tumbling out of his castle in the skies and smacking hard onto the pavement called reality. Freddie _loathed_ reality, she was one fickle bitch. He preferred to live in a wonderous fantasy land where he could make his own rules.   
Brian was one thousand per cent right but actually hearing him utter Freddie's deepest fears and concerns about their relationship didn't exactly help settle his nerves. He started to question everything again, his mind spinning perilously fast, leading him astray.

Brian took hold of his hand when he caught the awareness of Freddie's distress. ''I'm not trying to hurt you by saying this. I know that you already have considered all of this yourself. You're a clever man, but love tends to cloud the rational part of our brain.  
Obscures our better judgement, makes us gullible and slightly naive.  
I'm actually trying to protect you here, not Roger. Even though you probably thought otherwise. Roger will likely be fine either way but you, well that is another story entirely. I fear that if things don't work out you may not ever fully recover from losing Roger,''

Freddie felt tears well up behind his eyes. It had felt like Brian had trampled all over his heart with a herd of wild animals, stampeding all over his happy feelings from the past few hours. He had already gone through all of these emotions himself a while ago, said these rational, sensible arguments to himself and yet at this point he wouldn't hear it. Roger seemed different and Freddie tried to cling to what he had gone through with him in the past twenty-four hours.  
He desperately tried to trust his own judgement, attempted to have faith in what he had felt and seen lingering in Roger's eyes but Brian's rationality took over and held him hostage, trapping him inside a solid negative cloud, threatening to consume him.

It felt like someone had forced him to swallow a chalice of poison that was now eating away at his intestines like a nasty flesh-eating bacteria. His old insecurities came back to torment him, threatening to overwhelm him and he nearly tumbled right down the familiar rabbit hole once again, telling himself that he wasn't beautiful enough to be with Roger. That he wouldn't be enough for Roger.  

But he had seen Roger's love, felt it coursing through his system even if all the odds were stacked against him. He had slept with Roger in his arms and had secretly stayed up all night, holding him as Roger slept peacefully with his head resting to Freddie's chest. Trying to commiserate the moment that made him feel like he could achieve absolutely anything. That he was loved for who he was. Roger had mumbled his name numerous times as he slept, uttering it with so much fondness and affection that Freddie was now clinging to shards of it for dear life. Using it as a foghorn leading him out of the vast mist that Brian was fabricating.

He needed to stay strong, seeing Roger's face clearly in the back of his mind.  
Reminiscing how he had gazed at him just before they kissed and when they stood there across from one another, holding each other close.  
Brian's words were drifting up into the air and vanished and now all he could see were shards of pure blissful Roger, taking away all of his doubts. Reassuring him that what he had felt was as real as it could be.

''No, Roger _loves_ me,'' Freddie stated, shaking his head as if Brian was an aggravating fly that buzzed around him, bugging him. ''Things have changed Bri. I know you mean well and that you're only trying to keep me safe but I can handle myself. I'm a grown man who's quite skilled at the art of self-preservation in case you hadn't noticed.  
Besides, I need to give this a try. I owe it to myself. If Roger wants to go for it then I'm not going to reject him. That would be idiotic, after all those years of longing. You always say that it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all-right? I mean you're the bloody romantic in this family even if you pretend to be the rational one so if anyone should understand that it ought to be you,''

Brian nodded gently. ''I do get that Fred, believe me, I do. I can see that I've hurt you and that was not my intent. I'm sorry,''  
''Apologies are just words, dear,'' Freddie grumbled, repeating his father's words. Freddie had apologized multiple times as a child when he had done something naughty and insolent and his father always flung that statement back in his face.  
He wasn't wrong either, Freddie hardly ever meant his apology. It was easily said but meant nothing, not truly.  
''Indeed, they are, I'm just concerned about you,''

Freddie stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and leaned in to pinch Brian's unshaven cheeks. ''Don't worry too much, darling. It will give you hideous wrinkles,'' he winked, pecking Brian's cheeks lightly. ''I love you Bri, you're one of my dearest friends and I've been meaning to tell you something important,''  
Brian waited politely, a curious look on his face. ''I want you to know that I value you more than you even realize sometimes. I know we bicker over absolutely everything but that only elevates my performance. It boosts my creativity.  
I couldn't have done any of this without you and I want you to know that. I rely on you much more than you know. I've been trying to tell you that but I never really found the right occasion or words for it. I guess this felt like a good time for me.  
When you two locked us in here I missed you horribly. I wanted to speak to you, ask you for your advice. I realized that without you I felt completely lost and alone. I need you in my life to keep me balanced Bri. Without you, I will spin out of control easily. I just wanted you to know that. No matter how many times we fight and scowl at each other I wouldn't miss you for the world. Sounds awfully _sentimental_ I know, but-''

Brian scooted his rustic chair closer to Freddie's and wrapped him into a massive bear hug. His eyes were moist and laced with tenderness as the slender arms pulled Freddie in. There was something so immensely special about Brian's hugs, they made you feel like all your problems no longer existed.  
Made you feel warm and loved without limitations or judgement. Brian's loyalty was limitless, once he cared for you he would kill for you. His arms offered a form of comfort that couldn't be rivalled.  
The younger guitarist sniffled, wiping his cheeks with his long sleeve. ''Thank you for saying that. I hope you know that without you we would have never made it this far either. Every day I feel so blessed to have you in our lives, Fred.  
You may drive me absolutely mad from time to time but I need you in my life as well. You're the reason I'm positively excited to come to work every single day. I'm always so keen to see what new song you've come up with. Your creative mind is your weapon, Fred. It fabricates the most wonderful concoctions,''

Freddie smirked against Brian's collarbone, his eyes a bit damp. It felt good to finally say it. Everyone needed a bit of appreciation every once in a while. He vaguely heard drum noises arising from the opposite farmhouse and grinned. Roger was reunited with his old gal and Freddie could literally sense Roger's waves of excitement reach him, settling in his heart. Freddie wanted to go over so badly. He missed Roger. Even though that sounded preposterous, considering their imprisonment from the past day. ''Thanks Bri,''

''Sure, let's get to them then, I can tell you're already with Roger even if your body is still here,''  
''You're talking like that spiritual, hippy, badger-loving shaman again Bri, it's frightening,'' Freddie accused teasingly.  
Brian ruffled a hand through Freddie's hair and shook his head in disbelief. ''Sometimes I can't quite understand how I put up with you every single day,''  
Freddie sniggered wide. ''That makes two of us, darling,''

Freddie followed Brian to the recording studio, breathing in the free air once again. He sighed content and gazed around the premises. The sun shone in his face and the smell of dung was not alluring but he could care less. At least he could break free and leave as he pleased.  
They entered the barn and saw Roger sitting behind his drums, hitting them happily, totally back in his element, as he sang the lyrics of _'39'_ one of Brian's new country songs where Roger's falsetto truly obliterated everything else.  
The first time they had recorded it he couldn't believe how high Roger had actually gone, it literally knew no rival, not even Freddie could reach those notes. Roger truly was mind-blowing. A force to be reckoned with. When he saw Freddie step inside he smiled wide at him, throwing him a downright flirtatious wink as he continued singing.  
Freddie felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. He wasn't quite accustomed to Roger being this forward with him.  
Not in front of everyone. Deaky noticed it as he was waving the tambourine around to the beat but despite his amusement, he didn't comment on it. Freddie was grateful for it.

''I still cannot believe you caved and actually gave him the B-side with that silly car-song,'' Brian griped.  
Freddie shrugged provocative. ''It's only a song, darling. He was never going to let it go until he got his way. He locked himself in the bloody cupboard under the stairs to get what he wanted. So if it means that much to him then it's important to me too,''  
Brian groaned loud, clasping onto his head like a proper drama queen. ''Oh Lord will you be _that_ sort of couple then? I should have known, the bloody conjoined twins. You will never take my side ever again, will you? I will be outvoted by them _and_ you from now on,''  
''Don't be ridiculous, dear. I still hate a lot of Rog's far-fetched ideas and I will continue to do so even if we are doing it. You know that I agree with your approach more often and I will keep backing you up in the future. Promise. I'm still rooting for the old farts here. Our ideas are always superior to theirs, I mean they're basically infants, what do they know?''

Brian chuckled amicably. ''That's good to know. I need you on my side against those rebellious heathens else I may as well retire from Queen this instant,''  
Freddie leant up and flicked him on the back of his head, although he was quite certain that the pillow of curls protected Brian from it, diminishing the painful feeling it should have caused. ''Don't say such absurd things, love. You're my very own Jimi Hendrix. You're not going anywhere. And I'm older than you so what I say goes,''  
Brian wrapped an arm around his shoulder, laughing cheekily. ''Sure Fred, whatever you say,''

Roger changed the tune and starting blaring out the lyrics of _'I'm in love with my car,'_ and Freddie had to admit he sounded quite lovely. Even if the song was a bit silly and laced with sexual undertones. As Roger stated constantly, ''It's a metaphor, Brian!''  
Freddie knew that it was mostly true, being the only one to know the real backstory behind it, but he couldn't blame Brian and Deaky for not taking that too serious. ''Well at least he sings it rather well,'' Brian eventually admitted when Roger finished his song.  
''Of course, he does, have you ever heard him sing anything badly?'' Freddie proclaimed proudly. He listened to Deaky and Roger quibbling over the song, Deaky once again stating that it was insane and Roger flinging the argument in his face that Freddie had given him the B-side and that he should rightfully shut his trap about it now.  
''You should have included us in that decision, Fred,'' John grumbled, peeved.  
''Perhaps I wanted to, darling. But alas you weren't around due to your own brilliant idea of sealing us in-remember?''  
John sighed, nudging Freddie's side gently. ''I never claimed to have brilliant ideas, Fred. That sounds more like Bri,''  
''And thank you for that,'' Brian retorted sly, shooting John an innocuous glance.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventful, aside from Roger breaking yet another pair of drumsticks. Freddie met up with the other Roger, stroking the cat until he was satisfied with the attention and wandered off to catch mice or something like that.  
Brian cooked dinner and afterwards, Freddie did the dishes with Roger and John as Brian relaxed on the porch. Later that night they played a game of Scrabble that Brian won, as per usual, which aggravated Freddie. When it was around ten, Brian went to bed, informing them that he was going to wake them up at a reasonable hour, meaning somewhere around eight. They truly had to get cracking on finishing the album.  
Freddie hadn't missed that. Brian telling him what to do all the time. He knew they needed a father figure like that to keep them in line, to wake them up else they wouldn't get anything done, but it still aggravated him at times. Roger was unbearable in the early mornings and it usually took Brian about half an hour to wake him up at eight. He would throw a tantrum, hiding his face into his pillow, refusing to cooperate. Freddie was generally the one who lured Roger out of bed with the prospect of a treat as if he was a dog trainer.

John turned in for the night fifteen minutes after Brian, wishing them goodnight and sneaking to his own room, that was on the ground floor.  
And then it was just him and Roger again. ''I found Bri's booze,'' Roger chuckled. His head was resting in Freddie's lap once again, the familiarity of it warming Freddie's heart. He loved mapping through Roger's silky soft locks and now that his hair was shiny and clean again, Roger let him do it as long as he liked. ''Where did he hide it?''  
Roger's fingers were ghosting over the skin of Freddie's abdomen, roaming around under his shirt.

Freddie shivered, feeling arousal pool in his stomach. Roger lifted his shoulders in a semi-shrug. ''I'm not sure but I found it under his bed in an old crate. So if you're up for a drink?''  
''Normally I wouldn't say no to that, love. But we have an early morning and I'm still a bit knackered from not sleeping so well these past few nights,''  
''Geez, one day back with Brian in our lives and you're already nearing his levels of boredom. Hey, what did you two talk about? When you shooed me out of the kitchen earlier,''  
Freddie measured his words carefully, knowing that this required a delicate approach. ''He was voicing his _concerns_ about...well whatever is going on between us,''  
''Of course, let me guess, he told you that it wouldn't be wise to get into bed with me. That I wouldn't be able to stay faithful to you, despite trying my hardest and that it was doomed before it had even started. Classic,'' Roger spat out hotly. Irritation was palpable in his voice.  
''Something like that, yes,'' Freddie decided not to lie to Roger.  
''And what did you tell him? You didn't believe him did you?''  
Freddie caressed Roger's neck, sculpting his fingers over the side of Roger's soft cheek. ''No darling, well, I mean at first I felt a bit confused by what he said and somewhat contemplated it but no. I chose to have faith in you, _Blondie_. In us. I realized that he had a point seeing how you've never done this before but I won't let anyone take this away from me. If you tell me that you want this, want me then I'm all in. But you have to be absolutely sure that this is what you want,''

''I'm sure,'' Roger immediately blurted out, veering up from Freddie's knees and taking hold of his shoulders. A hand drifting to Freddie's chin, lifting it so their eyes met somewhere in the middle. ''I love you, Freddie Mercury. I love _all_ of you. I know I haven't done this, stayed true to someone but if I can do it with anyone it's going to be you.  
It has to be you. You make me brave and believe that I can do anything as long as you're by my side. You're _everything_ I never knew I wanted. The only person I can't live without. Please give me a chance to prove myself to you,''

Roger was pleading with his life. Freddie felt the sheer desperation and anguish beaming off the man he loved so much. As if Freddie was truly going to say no to him? Roger should know better. And yet he looked eerily vulnerable and fragile, averting his eyes as if Freddie had rejected him. Freddie extended his hand to his face and forced Roger to look at him once more. ''Nothing would make me happier, my sweet, _sweet_ darling,''  
Relief flooded through Roger's beautiful baby blues. ''Really?''  
''Of course you silly goose. God, c'me here Blondie,'' Freddie plunged himself onto Roger letting his lips speak for him. He kissed Roger deliberately hard and insistent, trying to voice just how he felt.  
Roger finally parted his lips and their tongues found one another in a heated dance, moving lavishly together. Freddie could hardly stand it, it felt so good. A thousand times better than he had ever imagined it to feel. Roger was excellent at this, not that Freddie had expected anything less from his little Casanova. _His_. Roger was his. Finally...

That realization was still dawning on him quite slowly.  
Freddie felt Roger's tongue trace over his lower lip, making him groan and pant at the sensitivity of it. He felt so alive. So whole. He was half convinced he could kiss Roger all night and still never get bored of it.

Ten minutes later they were lying on Freddie's bed, snogging and groping each other wildly, panting and moaning like a couple of horny teenagers. Roger laying on top of Freddie, their bodies pressed impossibly close together and still it wasn't nearly enough contact. Freddie needed more. Now.  
But as his fingers ghosted over Roger's shoulder he stalled, feeling Roger wince under him. His body was stifling and tense. Freddie had gone over the bruise Roger had suffered when that bloke had groped him in the pub two nights ago. Right. Roger had _never_ been with a man.  
This was a completely new experience for him. And as much as Freddie was dying for it, a part of him sensed Roger's uncertainty and apprehension as to how to do all of this. He broke free, reluctantly interrupting their heated kiss and massaged Roger's shoulder-blades languidly. The tension disappearing from the muscles with each stroke.

Roger laid his head to his bare chest tracing a small trail of kissing up and down Freddie's sternum that made him feel deliciously lightheaded and waited for him to explain what was stopping Freddie.  
He felt Roger's hardness pressing insistent against his hip but knew this wasn't the right time to be selfish. When Freddie remained quiet Roger grew predictably impatient and started whining. ''Why did you stop?''  
Freddie exhaled deeply, smooching Roger's pliant lips once more before he released him. ''I don't want to force you into anything you're not ready for, love,''  
''Who says I'm not ready for it?''  
''I am. Not after what happened to you at the pub. We are going to take this one step at a time. I could feel you freeze when I touched that bruise. Your whole body went rigid, Rog. You're not ready yet and I'm completely exhausted, to be honest. As much as I would love to do this now, it's not the right time. I waited six bloody years for this and I want it to be as special as you are to me. I want it to be super romantic, I guess. To not solely revolve around sex, you know? I've had casual sex more times than I can count. No, I need it to mean something significant,''  
Roger smiled fond and kissed Freddie's temple. ''You're sweet. Maybe you're right. Can I still snog you fucking _senseless_ then? For the time being?''  
''Darling, if I ever say no to that you have my permission to punch me in the face,''

Roger sealed their lips together once more, smiling against Freddie's lips. Freddie hauled him in even closer so that every limb and piece of heated skin were tangled together.  
He had never felt happier. Roger was finally his and they had all the time in the world. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC......_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I disappointed some of you by not writing smut into this story yet, there may be some smutty elements in the epilogue though. I'm just not that fond of writing smut. I like to think I'm far better with the emotional side of it.


	9. I still love you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger suffers an embarrassing problem on stage and an even more shameful one with Freddie in their trailer, after the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. The ending is here. Finally. Endings are my kryptonite really. I have to say. Creating them is just soooo hard. I hope this met all of your expectations guys. I meant to write this as a short chapter but I don't do those apparently. They always get long. Anyway, let me know how you enjoyed the ride. I love hearing your thoughts. 
> 
> I wanna thank everyone for reading this and sticking with me throughout the story and for sending me their love and support. It means a lot to me! I hope to see you guys again at my next Frian fic. <333

_Roger._

 

 

 

 

 _''The machine of a dream, such a clean machine. When I'm holding your wheel...''_ Roger was seated on his drum riser, singing his cherished song when it happened. The song he had fought so hard to get onto the album. The song that had nearly cost him Freddie in the process and then thanks to a strange turn of events ended up with him and Freddie being a couple. It sounded like a bad joke about an Irishman that wandered into a pub but it was true.  
Roger's voice caught in the back of his throat as he grew silent. He had bloody forgotten his own lines. To his all-time favourite song.

It was all Freddie's fault really, that rotter had been strutting down the centre-stage so erotically, clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and Adidas sneakers, grinding provocatively up and down against Brian's lanky legs, nearly folding himself double like the limber bastard that he was and he did all of it for Roger.  
To blatantly seduce him, make him fiercely jealous and throw I'm off his concentration all at the same time.  
It was a little game they often liked to play after a heated argument they shared in the dressing room, before entering the stage. A game that Roger was clearly losing tonight. That was his price to pay for questioning Freddie's sound options in front of Brian and Deaky, apparently.

Freddie had been downright impossible that night, whining and bitching about everything, varying from nitpicking at the lighting technicians who didn't do their jobs properly to Roger's outfit.  
It had created a whole riff between them, resulting in Brian and John tactfully sneaking away to let them sort out their own shit. Roger knew that in Freddie's eyes he'd done something horribly wrong but he had absolutely no clue as to what it was. Whenever Freddie was in a mood like tonight it usually revolved around him accidentally screwing something up.  
During their dispute, some things were thrown by Roger ( he couldn't even recall what ) and Freddie had been sneering at him, whining and moaning endlessly, flinging a variety of petulant insights in his face without explaining the real significant reason behind his anger. Roger would have to literally drag that out of Freddie if he wanted an inkling to Freddie's thoughts. Trying to decipher the complexity of his mind was attempting to read ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, it could be done surely, but not without limitless dedication and tenacity.

Eventually, they ended up sitting as far away from each other as possible, right before they went on stage for their performance.  
Their whole debate was a ruse really, merely a weird form of foreplay that both of them were more fond of than they cared to admit.  
A promise of what would surely happen when they would find each other in their trailer later that night. Roger shivered at the prospect, biting his lower lip wantonly.

Roger was so impossibly hard and needy from Freddie's little striptease during the chorus of their last song, _'Liar,'_ that he nearly burst out of Freddie's leather trousers. He truly was an idiot for letting Freddie talk him into wearing leather during a concert, knowing damn well it would feel as if his legs were steaming away in a sweat-box.  
But he had lost a bet to Freddie two days ago and as a result, was forced to wear Freddie's trousers during the entire show.  
It was a good thing he was able to hide his obvious erection behind his tower of drums. If he'd been standing there holding a guitar like Brian or Deaky he would have been painfully exposed and would have died of shame.

And then, if Roger wasn't suffering enough, Freddie had been groping up and down Brian's legs in a feeble attempt to enrage Roger even further.  
Not that it worked-well not that much anyway.  
Roger could never view Brian as a threat even if Freddie was keen on constantly parading around him, demanding all of his attention as their guitarist attempted to play without letting it distract him. Still, Roger had to admit that every now and then he felt a teensy bit jealous when he was forced to watch Freddie shamelessly flirt around with Brian. Even if it was completely innocuous.

Roger prided himself for his relentless timing and absolutely  _fantastic_ concentration.  
And yet here he sat in a sullen silence where no one heard anything but him banging on his drums. Apparently, his arms were still fully cooperating. The audience waited impatiently for him to continue his song. Roger felt mortified and a blush creeping over his cheeks. The fans couldn't see him but still, this was complete and utterly embarrassing.

Freddie cast him a triumphant look that Roger wanted to punch off his face but then after a split second came to his aid. _''All I feel is your gear. With my hand on your grease-gun. Oh, it's such a machine son,''_  
The sly wink Freddie gave him didn't go unnoticed and Roger felt himself unwind instantly, his instincts taking over and his pent-up anger seeping away.  
His lips parted and he'd finally found his lyrics, _''I'm in love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile,''_

Roger got through the rest of his song without further ado and he was grateful for it. For Freddie, who despite their little fit would always come to his aid when he needed him. No matter what happened with them off stage when it came to their shows Freddie always had his back.  
He would tease him with this until the end of time, surely, that was pretty much a given. Roger had just supplied him with ample ammunition for Freddie to fling this in his face whenever he pleased, but then again, Freddie occasionally had a similar problem with his own intricate lyrics. Which Roger never let him forget either and took pride in exploiting to the fullest.

It had been three years since their war at the Ridge farm and Brian's predictions had been correct. Things had changed radically now that he and Freddie were a somewhat serious couple and not just best friends.  
Their relationship influenced many decisions, occasionally complicating things but it also only strengthened their band in a funny way.  
Freddie still tended to take Brian's side over Roger's during a debate over what music choices were best and Roger and John still teamed up against them as they had in the past because some things were not mean to change.  
Also, it wouldn't be fair to Brian if he'd been singled out by the three of them, Freddie was quite keen not to let that happen, operating as a highly trained, underpaid mediator.

Roger and Freddie still tended to bicker but now it was mostly for kicks, keen on getting some great make up sex in the process.  
It was all good fun, really, and while Freddie could be impossible when it came to their music he was actually quite fabulous at being a partner. Surprisingly so. Even more shockingly, apparently so was Roger, when he put his mind to it and gave it his best effort.  
He occasionally had his doubts surely and had struggled with adapting to the idea of one man for the rest of his life. Not the long-haired, fair looking lady that he had dreamed of as a child but a very loud, eccentric man with a heart of gold.

They had both sown their wild oats long ago and actually enjoyed the benefits of monogamy. Even Roger, who had been so insistent on switching lasses each night. He discovered that having sex with someone you actually loved, someone who completed you was a thousand times more fulfilling than those empty shags could ever be.

And thankfully, Freddie was every bit the exotic sex god between the sheets as Roger had expected him to be, thankfully, and things never got boring.  
They liked to experiment as often as they did with their music, varying from tying each other to the bed to eating hot fudge of each other's dicks. It didn't matter what they did, Freddie still had the natural capacity to make everything he did incredibly hot.

Roger thought he had great orgasms with the ladies but that had been a total sham in comparison to what Freddie could do to him, what he could make him feel.  
He had never come harder in his entire life than the times where Freddie worked him open tantalizingly slow and torturous, with his tongue, his fingers various sex toys, whatever he could find closeby really.

While Freddie truly enjoyed being a rather snarky, demanding bottom they occasionally switched to spice things up a bit, Roger surrendering himself completely to Freddie. There was something incredibly hot about doing that, about surrendering himself to Freddie, relinquishing his control. He couldn't have done that with any other man, only Freddie.  
He trusted him more than anyone else on the planet.  
Roger had been rather opposed to the idea at first, fearing that it was slightly emasculating and that if he did it he could no longer deny that he was maybe a little gay after all. He saw it as a sort of gateway, a threshold he was dreading to pass. But on his birthday, during the first year they were together he had given in to temptation, feeling too curious to go through life with a gay partner and never trying it.

Freddie was incredibly  _gentle_ with him, he always was. Terribly concerned and fussy to harm Roger in any way. Roger had to admit that after Freddie had given him an endless massage in his candle-lit bedroom he was quite fed up with waiting and may have begged him to get on with it. Freddie had slicked up his fingers and breached him carefully, agonizingly slow. At first, Roger had nearly laughed at the strange sensation, not comprehending what all the fuss had been about.  
It didn't hurt but it was truly weird.

But then, well, Freddie's skilled hands found that special place deep inside of him that nearly made him scream in delight. Freddie had taken his sweet time tormenting him as he kept prodding and stroking Roger until he saw stars, making sounds he couldn't rightfully control or hold back, no matter how hard he bit his tongue. He nearly came on the spot when Freddie started rubbing his dick for him too.  
Roger was a heaving mess, panting and moaning as he begged Freddie to put him out of his misery. Freddie only prolonged his suffering by sliding two more fingers inside of him, scissoring him open languidly, kissing Roger senseless, driving him crazy. When Roger finally had enough and flung the plant that stood near the bed on the floor, Freddie finally gave him what he wanted.

A cock felt significantly different and fuller than a set of warm fingers, larger and wider and at first, Roger hadn't been too fond of the feeling.  
It was slightly painful, even if Freddie was alarmingly careful with him, stilling and giving him all the time he needed to get adjusted to having him inside of him. But once Roger had gotten accustomed to the feeling and Freddie started moving and thrusting slowly inside of him, hitting that spot each time, Roger had floated up to heaven. Nothing had ever felt so good.  
He had come shamefully fast that night, barely a few minutes in, his own dick completely untouched. He had never come that hard, he screamed so loud that Freddie's cats left the scene of the crime quickly, startled.  
They always liked to watch them have sex, those dirty pervs.

After that night the sky was the limit really and Freddie enjoyed shoving all sort of toys up Roger's bum whenever he felt like it. Even before he woke up, Roger would awake to a vibrator up his arse or a set of fingers.  
And even though he complained about it to Freddie he had found himself _addicted_ to the feeling rather quickly. And now he couldn't get enough. Would never be bored of the things Freddie could do to him.

But the best quality about him as a lover was that he was ever so caring. He never did anything Roger wouldn't feel completely comfortable with and he was fast to pick up on it if Roger did overstep his own boundaries. He would scold Roger for doing so, insisting that he shouldn't do anything he didn't want to do.

He was incredibly protective and got finicky and unbelievably jealous whenever groupies were swarming Roger after a gig, asking him if he wanted to go with them. Roger always refused, obviously, Freddie being more than a handful and enough to satisfy his every need. They would retreat to their trailer where Freddie tended to Roger's bloody fingers, scolding him for overworking them again.  
Placing children plasters with butterflies and rainbows on his fingers to tease him. No one was allowed to tend to Roger but Freddie, he promptly shooed all roadies away that were foolish enough to dare ask if Roger needed a hand.

Roger was his to look after and no one else had permission, well except Brian and John, if Freddie wasn't around or capable to do it himself. John had done it for him once when Freddie and Brian were busy with interviews and he'd been gentle but nothing like Freddie and he neglected to use the kiddie plasters.  
Even though Roger had whined about those every time Freddie used them he found himself missing the hilarity of them when John replaced them with stale ordinary ones.

After their gig Roger followed his mates off the stage, waving amicably at their fans one last time as he accepted a towel from a roadie, drying his neck and his arms. He was completely exhausted. Which was normal for him, drumming was fucking hard work. On nights where they had concerts, he didn't have to go to the gym to work out. Not that he did that on his days off either but still.  
He would rather spend them with Freddie at his house, lounging around on the sofa, reading a book or having a good shag. They didn't live together yet, despite Freddie constantly asking him when he would move in.  
Roger was quite fond of his own house and they were on each other's lip all the time through their work and therefore, at certain times he preferred to stay at his own place for a night, by himself.  
Reading or watching something on the telly. Freddie hadn't liked that at first, feeling paranoid that it had something to do with him, his old insecurity coming back to haunt him, turning him into an unbearable brat.

He felt rejected whenever Roger wanted a night to himself. And probably a bit suspicious and worried that he might go out with someone that wasn't Freddie. Roger had to constantly reassure him that it would never happen, that he loved him more than anyone else, which could be incredibly tiring at times. He estimated that Freddie told Roger that he loved him about twenty times a day and God forbid if Roger didn't immediately say it back to him. So he tended to fuss when Roger claimed time for himself.

Truth was that Roger just liked being on his own, actually being able to hear himself think for once and not being constantly surrounded and distracted by the chatter of his bandmates. He enjoyed the silence, revelled in it.  
Freddie had begrudgingly accepted it, eventually, but he could sulk like a child when Roger told him he was not coming over for the night. Freddie positively hated being alone, he wasn't quite good at it.  
And so they compromised somewhere in the middle, Roger calling Freddie at the nights he was at his own house to check up on him. Brian and John took turns in coming over to Freddie's place, bringing take-out and stopping by for a beer so that their frontman wasn't alone.

Brian brushed his arms, claiming his attention. ''Good show Rog, nicely done,''  
''Yeah thanks mate, you too,''  
Freddie strolled past them without even looking at Roger and Brian's eyes narrowed suspiciously. ''What did you do this time? Pray tell,''  
Roger moved the towel to his waist, drying up some of the sweat that dripped down his side. ''I _can't_ Bri, I honestly haven't got a clue what he's so ticked off about. I guess I did something wrong again,''  
''Hmm he has been rather insufferable today and we heard you bickering in the dressing room but we thought it was merely foreplay and yet he seems quite cross,''  
''I know, I just wish I knew what it's about,''  
''So go and ask him, Rog. It's not rocket science, you numpty,''  
''Well you would know,'' Roger sniggered. ''I will go ask him, thanks Bri,''  
''Don't do anything I wouldn't do,'' Brian quipped, smirking lavishly.

Roger rolled his eyes at him, said goodnight to Deaky and made his way over to Freddie's trailer. He knocked on the door and entered, not bothering to ask for Freddie's permission as usual. ''I want to be left alone, love,'' Freddie stated coldly, sitting behind his mirror, removing his make up with a moist cloth. A half-full bottle of Vodka stood by his arm Freddie clearly not bothering to look for a cup tonight. Roger knew it was a lie, Freddie hated being alone, especially when he was upset. He just wanted to see Roger grovel for him.     
''Why? I mean, I can tell you're angry at me but I don't know what I did to deserve it,''  
''You mean aside from forgetting your hard-won lyrics and looking like a complete blithering moron tonight? You nearly _ruined_ the show, Rog,''

Roger sighed, falling into the vacant seat beside Freddie, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Freddie's eyes were a bit puffy and red and Roger wondered if he'd been crying before he came in. He wanted to touch Freddie but knew he had to keep his distance for now, which was agonizing on its own. ''I realize that I was there, thank you very much. And I know you're never going to let me forget about it. But you've been in a foul mood since before the gig, so what did I do now? Can you at least tell me why you're so pissed at me?''

Freddie swallowed hard, wiping a dot of eyeliner that had gathered in the corner of his eye away. He turned to face Roger, looking incredibly small and vulnerable for a man who looked like a proper giant on stage. ''You fell asleep,''  
Roger frowned confounded. ''Yes, well that's what most people do at night to rest their brains if I'm not mistaken,''  
''No, you fell asleep when...'' Freddie shut his eyes and Roger realized this was something serious he was about to pay severely for.  
''When?''  
''Fuck me, Rog, you fell asleep when I was sucking you off!!!'' Freddie shouted, tears shimmering in his eyes.

Oh no, that was _much_ worse than anything Roger had expected him to say. A furious blush and pure humiliation crept to his cheeks. He couldn't recall much from last night, they had been at an after-party and the drinks had been flowing richly. He had surely been drunk on Gin and Tonics at the end of it. He didn't even remember making it back to his trailer, all he knew was that when he woke up this morning that Freddie wasn't sleeping next to him and had been absent from their trailer. Now he knew why. If this was true it was a sodding catastrophe.

Judging by Freddie's dishevelled expression it was undoubtedly, painfully true. He wouldn't lie about something like this. _Fuck_ , this was bad. Roger was doomed and had to salvage this as quickly as possible. ''Fred, I hardly recall _anything_ from last night, I was completely shit-faced,''  
''Oh so I'm making it up then?''  
''No, what I'm saying is that _if_ I fell asleep during sex I didn't do it on purpose. I was barely conscious for Pete's sake,''  
''It's all right, darling. I knew you'd grow tired of me eventually, it was only a matter of time and-''

Roger cut him off by placing his hand over Freddie's protesting lips. He hated the words that were oozing from them, spreading pure lies. ''Stop that. I'm not nor will I ever grow tired of you and you bloody well know it. I'm terribly sorry for falling asleep during well  _that_ , but I didn't do it on purpose, all right? It happened. I was exhausted and drunk as fuck, you know.  
It doesn't mean that I'm tired or fed up with you. You're insulting me by even suggesting that. I know you crave for endless levels of validation but this is becoming ridiculous you know. I love you Freddie, more than life itself. More than anyone else on this bloody planet. I shouldn't have to prove that to you every five seconds of every day.  
And yes sometimes I want a night to myself, not because of anything you did in particular but because my mind needs the time off to silence itself. It's not about you. I'm not saying that I never want to live with you or move in with you, just that I could use the time to collect my haphazard thoughts in silence.  
I'm going to need that time for the rest of our lives together so you may as well get used to it. If they would let us, I would marry you in a heartbeat you know,'' he stated, releasing his hold of Freddie, retreating his hand to let him speak.

Freddie's eyes were massive and wide with shock. ''You-you would?''  
Roger took his hands into his own and stroked them gently. ''If it were legal in the UK, I would, yes. Immediately. You're the love of my life too, Freddie. I would be so lucky to call you my husband,''

Freddie's eyes were beaming, all the residual rejection and anguish vanished due to Roger's reassurances. ''No my love, I would be the lucky one,''  
''Well let's agree that we're both lucky to have each other than, shall we?''  
''We can get married you know, if that's what you want,'' Freddie hummed. ''Oh really? How?''  
''We'll just go to a nice place, a cliff overlooking the sea somewhere in Italy, at sunset, exchange rings and vows in front of our friends and be together. No one can forbid us to do that,''  
Roger contemplated it for a moment before nodding. ''Sounds great, _love_. I'm happy with anything as long as we're together,'' god that was fucking cheesy, he scolded himself. He sounded like a cliched teenage girl. Like a bloody poem. Roger loathed poetry. It was all so flaky and pretentious.

Freddie rose to his feet, lifting Roger up with him, pinning him against the wall for a searing kiss. Roger felt all his troubles ebbing away as Freddie's tongue traced over his lower lip, making him quiver with need. He was already rock hard again, nearly bursting out of Freddie's trousers. Their tongues were moving together eagerly when Freddie suddenly pulled back, ogling Roger stern, his limbs holding Roger in place with sheer pressure. ''This does not mean that I've forgiven you for falling asleep on me, darling. In fact, if you _ever_ do that again I'm going to punch you in the face,''  
Roger pursed his lips together but conveyed him with an affirming glance. ''That's fair,''

Freddie beamed happily at him, leaning in for a content kiss, stroking Roger's hair affectionately. ''Excellent! Now that that's sorted, let's get you out of those pants shall we?''  
Roger sniggered at him, tracing a trail of seductive kisses up and down Freddie's neck, whispering, ''I thought you'd never ask,''

 

 

 

 

 

 

_The end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roger really did forget his lines to 'I'm in love with my car,' once and Freddie was there to help him out. I had to use that in this story, it was too good to pass up, especially considering that this story revolves around their fight over that song.
> 
> I wanted to portray Freddie as someone who constantly needed validation, I've read that during my research. Jim had to tell him he loved him constantly and that he was very insecure. So I had to put that in. I hope you guys like how I portrayed all the guys, let me know.  
> I'm sorry this story didn't contain more smut than this. I'm not very comfortable writing it so I settled for descriptions of it and hope it's enough for you guys. Be gentle on me okay ;-)
> 
> I hope you liked it. <3

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you think? I hope this was good enough for my first attempt.  
> As much as I love this ship, writing it is a bit of a challenge for me. 
> 
> I had to include that line from Bohemian Rhapsody, mostly because it fits in this story and also because I wanted Roger to be present the first time he hears Freddie sing it. Next chapter will be Roger's POV.  
> Oh and I'm not a native English speaker ( and most of the English we see on our TV is American ) so feel free to point out any errors I made. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope to see you at the next chapter! <3
> 
> Just FYI: I tend to change a lot of my chapters after I post them, updating them, editing them, seeing how I'm never fully happy with my result. I always want to improve it and am very frustrated that I wasn't born British lol.  
> So you may want to read this again in a day or so that you won't miss anything.


End file.
